Blessed Objectivity
by rayychel infinity
Summary: Because there Blaine is, kneeling at the foot of his bed, naked except for a pair of tight red boy shorts and thigh-high black stockings with vivid red bows on the band.
1. Oh Oh Oh

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Glee_, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from the insert of Panic! At The Disco's _A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_.  
>Warnings are: genderplay and, of course, sex.<p>

Reviewers, I'm sorry, my mind's a little dead from today. But I love you all.

So, again, originally posted on my Tumblr. I'm going to start working on _Lights_ again this week since midterms are over and it's officially spring break (woooo). So be on the lookout, hopefully, for that sometime this week :)

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong>endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com<strong>

****xxxxXxxxx****

On the second day of spring break Blaine texts Kurt. It's a little after one in the afternoon when Kurt's phone buzzes on his nightstand, rattling on the wood in a noisy din. He twists on the bed to get it, a smile already working its way onto his face as he unlocks the screen and sets down the book he'd been reading for school.

That smile stalls, though, when he reads the text.

_Parents left early. Change of plans. You can come over now_

They were supposed to hang out this evening when Blaine's parents left for a two-day business trip, but apparently—and thankfully—things have been bumped up. His phone buzzes again, another gray chat bubble popping up underneath Blaine's first one before he can reply.

_Come up to my room when you get there. Front door should be unlocked_

Well, that's . . . new. Of course they've been having sex and getting to know what they like and don't like, but Blaine's never usually so straightforward about it. Usually they let whatever happens happen naturally and don't do too much talking about it. They're working up to that, Kurt knows. They're still both shy and new to this and it's huge and daunting and, if he wants to be frank, terrifying.

He texts Blaine a quick _Okay :)_ and rushes downstairs to let his dad know where he's going. He runs a hand gingerly over his hair, making sure it's presentable, and checks for any potential wrinkles in his slate-gray button-up. The day is slightly colder than usual for March, so he grabs a light jacket, snatching his phone off his bed and his keys out of the bowl by his door.

He doesn't know exactly what to expect when he arrives at Blaine's house, but if he presses just that much harder on the gas pedal and stops for only seconds at every stop sign, well … who can blame him?

****xxxxXxxxx****

The door to Blaine's room is cracked open when Kurt reaches it, a tiny sliver of yellow light streaming out into the dimly-lit hall. He takes a deep breath to calm the familiar butterflies swarming his stomach and pushes open the door, a greeting ready on his lips as he expects to find Blaine lounging on his bed with a book, perhaps even dancing around like he's wont to do when he's alone. He door creeks open and he's all wide smiles and bright eyes as he steps in.

And stops.

Stares.

_Gasps_.

Because there Blaine is, kneeling at the foot of his bed, naked except for a pair of tight (_ohmygodsotight_) red boy shorts and thigh-high black stockings with vivid red bows on the band. Lower lip drawn between teeth, his honey hazel eyes bright and wide, excited yet apprehensive; afraid, almost, in a way. His arms are pulled behind his back, enhancing his upper chest with that subtle muscle definition and scratchy-soft sparse dark hair, and how can he elicit such a strong reaction without even moving, without _saying_ anything?

Kurt's never been big into the whole lingerie thing, but that's not to say that he hasn't looked. He's seen photos, knows he can appreciate a man's long, lean and muscled thighs in a pair of thigh-highs, knows that a gather belt is undeniably a turn-on, and panties, if fitted correctly, are _amazing_.

He just . . . never thought he'd experience any of it firsthand. And, _oh_. He's forgotten how to speak.

"Oh my god," Kurt whispers after a too-long pause, finally finding his voice. His eyes are wide and his heart is pounding and everything feels numb except for the sharp point of focus in his groin and the dull buzzing in his ears. The thin material of the shorts is pulled tight across the line of Blaine's cock, the muscles in the very tops of his thighs, in the best way possible. Whatever he had been expecting since those texts, it certainly wasn't this. And he doesn't think that he can complain. "Holy . . . _Blaine_."

"Hi," Blaine says a little shakily. He shifts on his knees, comforter rustling under his weight, and drops his arms to his sides where he fiddles with the black material and blood-red silk of the bows. "Do you—do you like?"

"Like?" Kurt echoes in disbelief. He sees a flicker of frightened doubt cross Blaine's eyes for a second. Then he's unbuttoning his coat and hanging it up on Blaine's coat rack before striding purposefully across the room to the bed. "You look so _hot_," he says, running his hands along the silky material of the stockings. He slips a finger underneath the band, pulling it away from Blaine's skin to let it return with a _snap_. Blaine gasps and lets his eyes slide shut, head tilting back slightly to expose his throat where Kurt watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It—it's silly," Blaine says softly, blushing. He looks down at the comforter, the expanse of his legs, and immediately Kurt's grabbing his hands, holding them tight. Now isn't time to let Blaine fall into his usual _never good enough for anyone_ routine because, damn it, he _is_, and if not for his parents then he is for Kurt, and that's all that should matter.

"It's sexy," Kurt says, smiling, eyes darkened. "It's _so sexy_ and you have no idea how much this turns me on, Blaine." He pulls Blaine close before he whispers, "The idea of your legs spread wide, stockings still on as I finger you open is so fucking _hot_."

Blaine's mouth drops open, wet and slick and so inviting that Kurt takes without asking, kissing him soundly, letting him know that it's _okay_. Blaine responds as eagerly as always, grabbing and touching like he'll float away if some part of his body isn't in contact with Kurt.

Kurt slides his hands down Blaine's naked torso, feeling the subtle dips and indentations of his ribs, his hips, then further down past the silky boy shorts until he reaches the fabric of the stockings. Now he allows himself to smooth his palms lower, trace the lines of Blaine's muscled thighs, feel the twitch of those muscles as Blaine shifts slightly under Kurt's careful scrutiny.

"You look so beautiful every day," Kurt says quietly, rubbing his palms lightly over Blaine's thighs, back-forth back-forth in never-ending cycle. "But like this, it's like you . . . you finally let your guard down. I can finally see _you_."

Leans close, breathes hot on Blaine's neck, "And I _like_ what I see."

He slides back up, dragging his fingertips. From stocking to warm skin, scratchy with dark hair, then up to silky material, over until he reaches the hard, hot bulge of Blaine's cock, straining and heavy in his shorts. Blaine gasps, an inhale of air through his teeth, surprised, and grabs onto Kurt's shoulders, kissing him hard and desperate.

"I want you to fuck me," Blaine says, sentence sliced down the middle by the tremulous fissure in his voice; then, clearing his throat and adding a slight purr and half-lid of the eyes, "I want you to _fuck me_."

"Yes, yes, oh god yes," Kurt whispers back, pressing his forehead to Blaine's as he squeezes, rubs his palm over until he gets to the damp part of the fabric where the wet tip of Blaine's cock is pressed. "Wanna fuck you _so hard_; make you feel it for _days_."

Blaine whines, high and lilting, and grabs Kurt's face in wide, calloused hands, pulling him into a deep kiss. Kurt slides his hand under the waistband of the shorts, slipping Blaine's cock out, and already he's so damp and hot and hard, heavy in Kurt's palm until he wraps his fingers and strokes up once, twisting at the ridge.

Kurt sucks on Blaine's tongue when he slides it along Kurt's bottom lip, trailing his free hand down the muscled expanse of Blaine's back until he reaches the swell of his ass, slipping his fingers below the waistband of the shorts to run teasing fingertips up and down the divide.

Letting out a choked sound into Kurt's mouth, Blaine presses forward, then back, sliding a little on the comforter. "Fuck me," he gasps, like he's unable to say anything else. He grabs tight to the fabric of Kurt's shirt, bunching it up in trembling fingertips. "Please, Kurt, _please_."

It's so rare to get Blaine like this, broken down and open, begging, needing, that Kurt can't do anything but obey. He pushes away, pressing a lingering kiss to Blaine's lips, and walks over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and shuffling papers and knickknacks aside to unearth the lube and box of condoms.

He turns around, condom and lube in one hand, the other already undoing the buttons on his shirt, and promptly forgets _what_, exactly, it was that he had been doing.

Blaine's moved to the head of his bed, propped up on his back by the pillows he keeps there. The boy shorts are pushed down mid-thigh and he's got a hand wrapped around his cock, jerking desperately. Kurt can't move for what seems like _hours_ as Blaine tosses his head back and moans, hips fucking up into his fist and legs trying to open wider but being inhibited by his underwear. The sounds get slicker and slicker, Blaine's noises a little higher and more desperate, and Kurt knows he's close, too close, to coming already.

Finally Kurt shakes his head, grounding himself, and steps forward, tugging the shorts down and off of Blaine's legs, letting his palms run along the definition of Blaine's calves as he goes. "Up," he says hoarsely when Blaine blinks open bleary eyes to look at him. "I don't want you coming yet," he clarifies, brandishing the lube. He makes quick work of the remaining buttons on his shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders and to the floor in a soft _swish_ of fabric.

Blaine whines a little, low and pleading, but obeys nonetheless, reluctantly letting go of his cock. He maneuvers himself onto his hands and knees, spacing his legs wide and tilting his ass up. He looks over his shoulder briefly, eyes wide and lower lip between his teeth. Kurt sucks in a breath, moaning involuntarily as he stares at Blaine, spread wide, stockings dark against dark skin, bows standing stark in the otherwise-neutrals. His muscles work under that smooth, tan skin and he looks so, so gorgeous that Kurt _still_ wonders how he got someone like Blaine.

"So perfect," Kurt breathes, climbing up onto the bed behind Blaine. He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, taking the constriction off his cock with a sigh of relief. Palm flat and wide, he runs it along the swell and curve of Blaine's ass, letting his thumb brush Blaine's hole teasingly. Blaine jerks in surprise, moans softly and lets his legs spread a little wider.

"Kurt," he says softly, just this side of begging.

"Shh. Just let me look."

He runs his fingers down the cleft of Blaine's ass, teases over his hole again to watch him clench, goes down further to where his balls hang heavy between his legs. He cups them, rolls them gently in his palm, rubbing at the stretch of skin between Blaine's sac and hole.

"Kurt, _please_," Blaine whines as he pushes back into Kurt's soft touch. "Stop teasing."

Kurt thumbs open the cap of the lube with a chuckle, drizzling some onto his index and middle fingers. He warms it up before circling Blaine's hole with his index finger, unable to help rubbing his free hand up and down Blaine's stocking-covered thigh as he slowly pushes in.

"Mm, god, _yes_," Blaine moans, head dropped down between his shoulders. He circles his hips slowly, pushing Kurt's finger in to the last knuckle. "You feel so good."

"It's just one finger," Kurt replies, working it in and out gently. He rubs the knuckle of his middle finger against the rim of Blaine's asshole, then slides out enough to slip that finger in, crossed over his index until he slides past the initial resistance. At two Blaine's back bows slightly, his moan a little more broken as Kurt slides both fingers in to the last knuckle and twists, crooks.

His free hand moves from thigh to cock, palming the damp tip and spreading the moisture down the length as he encircles Blaine's cock and strokes slowly and deliberately in time to the thrusts of his fingers.

At three, Blaine whines and pushes back immediately, reaching behind to grab his cheek and spread himself open further, nails digging crescents into his own skin. When Kurt presses deeper, crooks his fingers, Blaine's whole body shakes, mouth opening but only a whisper of a sound escaping. Sweat is beginning to collect on Blaine's back, visible in the bright daylight of his room. Kurt leans down, still working his fingers in and out of Blaine, the soft, lewd squelching the only noise besides Blaine's quiets pants and moans, and licks a line from Blaine's lower back down to his thigh. He takes the band of the stocking between his teeth, pulling away and letting it snap back like he'd done earlier.

Blaine moans, louder this time, his body shifting as he braces his weight on his left arm to bring his right underneath to take hold of his cock. He trembles as he does, breathing out "Oh god, oh _god_" under his breath. Kurt takes a deep breath to steady himself, palming his cock through his underwear. He's so close already, just from this, and he thinks that it's going to be nothing short of a miracle if he gets inside Blaine at all.

He lets his fingers slide free, Blaine clenching around nothing with a displeased noise, and slides off the bed to hurriedly toe his shoes off and undo his jeans, wriggling them and his boxer briefs down his hips. He steps out of them, peeling off his socks as he goes, and climbs back onto the bed.

Blaine's still in the same position, unmoving, and Kurt feels around, fumbles for the condom, opening it after a few shaky tries when he finds it and rolling it on. He slicks more lube over his dick, tugs on his balls to pull himself back from the edge, and gently taps Blaine on the hip, saying, "Roll over."

Kurt takes his time in appreciating Blaine like this, already worked over but not quite there yet, eyes big and pupils dilated, cock hard and leaking against his heaving abdomen. Kurt watches him breathe for a few seconds, takes note of the labored rise and fall of his stomach, the near-imperceptible quake of his thighs as he soundlessly spreads as wide as he can go.

"I love you," Kurt says, leaning down to press one kiss against Blaine's lips, then two, finally forced there as Blaine's hand tangles in his hair to hold him as he opens his mouth wider, licks at the backs of Kurt's teeth.

Kurt's hips push forward, his cock sliding along Blaine's balls and it's then that he's reminded that he wants to be buried deep inside Blaine—he _needs_ to be. He works a hand between them, grasps the base of his cock to line it up with Blaine's hole, takes Blaine's lower lip between his teeth in a gentle bite, and pushes in.

"Oh," Blaine gasps, turning his head to the side as he sucks in a deep breath, hands gripping tight to Kurt's biceps, his legs locking around Kurt's waist. The slide of silk is smooth and cool against Kurt's skin, reminding him of how they got here in the first place, and suddenly it's not enough.

Hands insistent on the insides of Blaine's thighs, he gently unhooks his legs and pushes up, breathlessly asking "Is this okay?" as he hoists Blaine's legs close to his chest. Receiving a nod in return, Kurt slides out to the tip of his cock and back in, fingers digging into Blaine's thighs through the stockings.

Blaine moans, low and throaty in complete contrast to the soft and utter femininity of the stockings, and Kurt's breath catches momentarily in his throat. This boy—his _boyfriend_—loves him enough, trusts him enough, to allow this side of himself to be shown, to be paid attention to and reassured that it's not wrong, no, it's _perfect, you're perfect_.

If Kurt hadn't been sure that he was in love months ago, he'd know for sure that he was now.

He shifts, changes angles the best he can, and fucks forward, pushing Blaine up the bed slightly. The air in the room is thick now, temperature spiked enough that Kurt can feel the sweat beading at his hairline and dotting on his back, under his palms where he's still pushing Blaine's legs up and out.

They've been in this position before, Blaine under Kurt in one way or another, and Kurt likes to think that he knows this expanse of skin well by now. His hands constantly sliding over the silk of the stockings reminds himself that yes, he knows Blaine, knows every inch and crevice and taste, but he doesn't know _this_, that slick slide of fabric clinging tightly to Blaine's legs, hugging his thighs.

He doesn't know, but he's glad he's able to learn.

Blaine's worked a hand between them, fisting his cock with a moan and arch of the back, head digging into the pillows. "Yes, yes," he whimpers, hissing slightly at the burn of his muscles as Kurt pushes his legs apart just a fraction of an inch more.

Blaine clenches around him, tightening as Kurt drags out, tilting his hips up, and Kurt swears, all self-control gone as he slams into Blaine, fucking him hard and deep as desperation takes over.

"Oh, oh, god, _Kurt_," Blaine moans, keens. His voice is raspy, fading in and out and riddled with grunts as Kurt relentlessly fucks into him. "Oh, fuck yes, baby, _fuck_ me, c'mon, c'mon."

Kurt lets Blaine's legs drop back around his waist, gets leverage with his hands flat on the bed and snaps his hips forward harder and harder until Blaine arches off the bed, hand still on his cock, and comes with a moan just short of a wail in long spurts over his hand and abdomen.

It's not long after that Kurt comes, teeth sharp in the curve of Blaine's shoulder as he shudders through it. Blaine's petting his hair as he slowly pulls out, reluctantly letting him out of his arms so that he can strip off the condom and toss it in the wastebasket by the bed.

They curl close, like they always do when Kurt flops back onto the bed, one of Blaine's legs slung over Kurt's. He works it back and forth over the sweaty skin, and Kurt knows without a doubt that Blaine is aware of how much of an effect the sensation has on him. Kurt strokes down Blaine's arm, stopping to twine their fingers together and lift them to his mouth to kiss Blaine's knuckles.

"You really are perfect, you know," he says softly, smiling. Blaine blinks, slowly, lashes fanning out across his cheeks in a dark brush. "Without or without sexy lingerie."

A flush spreads of Blaine's cheeks and he ducks his head down, trying to conceal his smile. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it," he admits, running the backs of the fingers of his free hand along Kurt's cheek.

"I'd have to be insane not to like it."

"I thought you'd be insane _to_ like it."

"_You're_ insane," Kurt replies good-naturedly, dropping their hands to pull Blaine into a kiss. He tangles their feet together and feels Blaine's lips stretch into a smile. He's always a sucker for footsie, and now is no exception. "But I still love you."

"Mm, I love you, too."

"And I hope you're going to put these stockings to good use more often. No more hiding secrets."

Blaine huffs out a laugh against Kurt's collarbone, breath hot, lips familiar as he presses a soft kiss to the spot. "Okay, okay. I swear."

Kurt smiles and kisses the top of Blaine's head. "Good."


	2. But You Get The Picture

Somehow Blaine wearing lingerie became a sort of 'verse, so here: have more!

Warnings are: riding, dirty talk, boys wearing sexy lingerie.  
>I have the visual for Blaine's garter-belt-and-stockings combo and panties on my Tumblr, so if you want to see them, follow the link below :)<p>

Reviews, thank you for offering such lovely feedback. I love you all!

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong>endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com<strong>

**xxxxXxxxx**

Their spring break goes by in a blur of too-balmy weather and too many parental figures around. After that initial weekend Blaine's parents come home and it seems like Burt and Carole _never_ leave the house. Kisses—the searching, soul-deep kind that have Kurt's toes curling in his socks and his mouth opening wide against Blaine's—are stolen on couches and beds in the miniscule windows of alone time that they're given, but most afternoons and evenings are spent as PG-rated as possible. They get homework done. They read together. The watch movies and cuddle and nap together.

But Kurt _still_ can't get the image of Blaine's thighs encased in black silk out of his head. When they go up town for a date that Wednesday Blaine drives and Kurt can't resist putting his hand on Blaine's thigh, imagining the feel of the silk under his palm instead of rough denim. This is a once-harmless gesture they'd both adopted after naturally growing closer during the course of their relationship, but now it's marred—in the best possible way—with visions of skimpy lingerie and skin and sweat and _sex_. He remembers Blaine's flushed skin, muscles knotted hard under his touch, flexing as he pushed Blaine's legs back; he remembers the fell of the silk gliding against his skin as Blaine's legs fall to wrap around his waist, cinching and tightening as Kurt fucks deep into him.

He's getting maybe a little too handsy lately, but he _knows_ now, knows Blaine's secret and has seen it and he just wants more.

At Breadstix he's constantly pressing his foot to Blaine's ankle during their dinner, running it up his calf and then back down. Their waitress comes and goes with menus and drinks and dinner, none the wiser, but Kurt can see Blaine's fingers tighten on his water glass every time his foot goes particularly high.

"What's gotten into you?" Blaine finally asks, setting his fork down. He's not angry. His pasta is only half-done and he doesn't look intent on finishing it any time soon. His skin is flushed a light red, which means he's either embarrassed or aroused or both; Kurt's willing to bet that it's both.

"Nothing," Kurt replies sweetly, running the toe of his boot up Blaine's leg once more, remembering stockings and red boy shorts and how much he wants to see it all again. "Just admiring how handsome you look tonight." He reaches across the table and takes Blaine's hand in his.

"Bull," Blaine responds, smiling faintly. His eyes have softened and his free hand goes for his fork again. Kurt lets his feet rest on the floor for now, content to hold his boyfriend's hand while they eat in companionable silence.

They're about ready to flag down their waitress for their check when Blaine blurts out, "I have more."

Kurt tilts his head, taking one last drink of his iced tea before pushing the mostly-empty glass off to the side. "What?"

Blaine swallows, slowly beginning to redden again, and says, quieter, "T-the…lingerie. I—I have more. At home. It's hidden, but I have…more."

A too-quick too-hot spark of arousal flashes through Kurt's body like a whip. He sits up a little straighter in the booth, staring hard at Blaine's red face. "You do?"

Blaine chews on his lower lip and nods, pushing around the leftover sauce with the side of his fork. He looks up at Kurt through his eyelashes—_god he looks so gorgeous and demure like that_—and says, "I wanted to show you tonight."

"Aren't your parents home?" _Please don't be, oh god, please don't be…_

"Dinner party."

"Oh," Kurt says eloquently while internally he's jumping up and down. He rubs his thumb over the skin of Blaine's hand, trying—and failing—to not let his imagination run away with him. Blaine has more. He didn't specify, but Kurt's willing to bet that "more" doesn't just mean panties or stockings. When Blaine does something he usually goes all-out, a trait Kurt feels proud that they share. It could come in handy in the future.

"We have time," Blaine adds, leaning on his elbows on the table. Their waitress comes and takes their plates, leaving the check, and they both spring back awkwardly when she walks by, but all she does is give them a warm, secretive smile and a wink before walking away.

"How much?" Kurt asks when they lean close again. He inhales deeply, taking in Blaine's cologne, and fights back the urge to kiss him.

"A couple of hours," Blaine says. "That's more than enough, don't you think?"

Kurt squeezes his hand and lets go, wrestling the check out of Blaine's grasp and placing his card in the slot before Blaine can even fumble for his wallet. "No amount of time is ever enough," he says. "And stop that. You're taking me home, the least I can do is pay."

**xxxxXxxxx**

They get up to Blaine's room and Blaine is immediately shoving Kurt back into the hallway, kissing him once on the lips before shutting the door with a parting "Wait here just a few minutes."

So Kurt waits. He takes this time to admire the Andersons' upstairs hallway, looking at the various family photos over the years, the professional sibling shoots of Blaine and Cooper hung in heavy, expensive oak frames along the walls. It looks homey enough to a passerby, but Kurt can't help and feel an undercurrent of loneliness and neglect whenever he comes here. Blaine's room in the only part of the house that shows any character besides _we have money; this is what we do with it_. The décor has a subtle don't-touch vibe that Kurt always carefully obeys.

"Kurt?" Blaine finally calls softly from the other side of the door, wrenching Kurt from his picture-observing thoughts and making his stomach jolt and knot in anticipation. "You can come in now."

Kurt takes a deep breath, willing his heart to stop racing, his palms to stop sweating, the fog to clear from his head and the lead to dissipate from his limbs. This isn't new. He's seen this—he _loves_ this as much as Blaine loves this. He loves making his boyfriend fall apart and he loves that he gets to share this little intimate part of Blaine's life, this thing that makes him special and happy.

They've been each other's everything for so many months now that it all bleeds together, a blurry finger-painting of _did_s and _will do_s. Kurt tries not to remember a time without Blaine, and when he does he focuses on memories of mouths, of fingertips and _sexy is so much more, **you're**_ _so much more_.

Blaine's a part of his soul now, etched together and sewn with unbreakable thread. That red string is twined firmly around their wrists, winding its way through their fingers and the very corners of their bodies.

He loves and is loved.

And he never wants to stop doing this.

He takes the brass knob with a sigh and a clammy grip, twists and pulls it open. What's waiting on the other side is more beautiful than the sunrise or any New York landmark. What's there is his home, pastpresentfuture.

He steps in and lets the door click shut behind him.

"Hi," Blaine says from the middle of the room, voice just as shy but also holding a hidden note of strength, one that wasn't there the last time. His posture is straight, his hip slightly cocked. His fingers are playing absentmindedly with the frills on his panties. Oh—_frills_. Nothing like the simple boy shorts Blaine had last time—these are extravagant, gorgeous and brightly-colored pink-and-purple.

"Hey," Kurt breathes, eyes wide as he stares. Swallows and it echoes, a great gulp of a sound. It would be comical in any other situation except in this one it's too, _too_ fitting.

He takes tentative steps forward, his footfalls almost too loud. Like he's disturbing something.

Blaine doesn't move, just meets Kurt's eyes and holds his gaze, unwavering, as Kurt approaches. Kurt lets his fingers drift, skimming, once he's standing in front of Blaine, and feels the whisper of silk, the roughness of lace. He takes the bow on the far left of Blaine's panties between his fingertips and rubs, letting the material scratch together with tiny vibrations.

He could go lower, feel Blaine's cock already hard and heavy from anticipation, this intense once-over, but he doesn't.

The top of the garter belt wraps around Blaine's lower abdomen in a swirl of black flowers and sheer mesh, tight against tan skin, and crisscrosses at his upper thighs before it meets at the top of his stockings. It enhances the narrowness of his waist, pulls focus to the broadness of his shoulders where most of the strength in his body from years of boxing and exercise is held and filled out.

"Fishnets," is all Kurt says, voice throaty and cracking. Somehow this affects him more than the simple black silk of last time; perhaps it's the danger of it all, the society-given connotations with fishnet stockings. Perhaps it's because this time everything is a little more detailed, more expensive, and Blaine has great taste and looks even _better_.

"These are my favorites," Blaine admits, taking Kurt's hand and bringing it to the waistband of the belt, letting their twined fingers trace the divots of a flower, the curves of a swirl and the scalloped cut of the edges. Underneath their hands Blaine's torso heaves as he breathes hard. Underneath their hands are taught muscles, tightened, and it would be so…_easy_ to toss everything to the wind and take Blaine now, shove his panties aside and jerk him off until he comes, white on black, with an arching, strangled cry.

He decides not to, bides his time and makes the decision to draw everything out a little more, play Blaine until he's strung like a too-tight guitar chord, ready to snap at any second, muscles and ligaments and the very fibers of his being quivering with contained energy,

Instead, he takes in a different way, kissing Blaine open and sloppy, sucking on his tongue and changing angles as he grasps onto Blaine's shoulders, fingers digging into the corded muscles there, bunched up in anticipation. Blaine whimpers as he tries to keep up, wraps arms around Kurt's waist and tugs him closer to rub against his hip slowly as their kisses get wetter and wetter.

Kurt pulls away and watches Blaine's lashes flutter as he slowly opens his eyes, jaw still slack, saliva glistening on pink lips, on his chin with the barest hint of late-in-the-day stubble. "You are so beautiful," Kurt whispers, thumbing over Blaine's cheekbone. He puts a hand on Blaine's hip, digs that thumb into the divot of his hip bones. "I know I keep saying it but when you're like this it's all I _can_ say."

"Why don't you show me instead?" Blaine whispers back, voice pitched low, eyes darkening like the onslaught of an early-spring thunderstorm. It's a challenge, Blaine's way of initiating _this_. He shouts for his attention in almost-subtle ways, always wants to prove his worth and prove that _he's_ worth _it_. So far, this might be Kurt's favorite way.

"Mm, you want that?" Kurt asks, smoothing his hands down the curves of Blaine's torso and pressing his lips against Blaine's cheek. He slides his hands around to cup Blaine's ass through the lace, kneads his fingers and feels the resulting full-body shudder. "You want me to fuck you over your desk like this, your pretty little panties pushed aside? How about against the wall? You want me to suck your cock or lick your desperate asshole until you come?"

The last words are spoken directly against Blaine's ear before Kurt darts his tongue out, licks at the curve and then Blaine is moaning, grabbing at the front of Kurt's shirt and pulling-then-pushing him away. He looks desperate, strung tight. He looks _amazing_.

"Just fuck me," he pleads. "I'm two seconds away from dropping onto the floor and shoving my ass into the air. _Kurt_," he adds when all he gets in response is a twitching smile and an unmoving boyfriend.

"On the bed," Kurt commands, kissing Blaine again, and again, _again_ until Blaine backs towards the bed, falls down when his knees connect. He doesn't move, just looks up with wide eyes and parted lips. Waits for Kurt to move, to make that first integral play.

Kurt strips his vest off first, carefully undoing the buttons, then his shirt, and those buttons he's a little rougher with; his shoes and socks follow, and finally then his jeans all fall into a crumpled heap on Blaine's bedroom floor. He's seen the sight enough to appreciate it more and more every time that it happens. His clothes on another boy's carpet are…it's a _thing_ for him, he thinks. It's him shedding his protective shell, all his vulnerabilities, and leaving them down to get trampled on. It's like their first time all over in giving themselves to the other.

When he's down to his boxer briefs he steps toward the bed, letting his eyes roam freely over Blaine, from his well-developed shoulders and biceps and chest, down his abdomen where the faint beginnings of a six-pack are starting to show; down past the band of the garter belt and the purple-and-pink frills of the panties, bright against Blaine's tan skin.

This is ridiculous, how good Blaine looks in these, like this, and Kurt's never thanked this lucky stars more than he has these past few days. Something that is these colors, this style, should look out of place on a male body, but it adds the perfect disconnect and anyone would have to be crazy not to want Blaine like this.

Hands rest on Blaine's thighs, Kurt crooking his fingers enough to put pressure indentations on Blaine's skin. "So sexy," he breathes, letting his nail catch on one of the small holes, drawing it up and away. It comes back down without the satisfying _snap_ Blaine's last stockings had, but he supposes that these are…okay.

(More than okay, oh _god_, so much more.)

Blaine scoots up the bed, going until he can stretch out comfortably without having his feet dangling over the edge. Kurt crawls up after him, letting one hand drag up along the length of Blaine's leg as he goes. The bed bounces and dips, squeaking as they situate with blushing giggles to find the perfect position.

He finally settles between Blaine's legs, running palms along the material of the fishnets again—he can't stop, doesn't think he would even if he could—before squeezing Blaine's upper thighs and feeling the crisscross of the lace on his skin. He props himself up, hands on either side of Blaine's head as he leans in; their lips slide together, wet and sucking, and Kurt can't resist rocking down, meeting the hard line of Blaine's cock with his own.

_I could stay like_ _this_ he thinks as he runs his tongue along the roof of Blaine's mouth, rubbing and rocking and moving until it all becomes too much. They've done it before, on days when their time alone was minimal, and Kurt likes the inherently male way it feels, where sweat collects in the fabric of clothes they haven't bothered to take off.

Blaine whimpers underneath him, hooking his ankles around Kurt's thighs. He kisses back harder, rests his weight on his elbow as he surges up, takes what Kurt gives. It's a mutual part when they do, chests heaving, lips rapidly swelling and tingling as they catch their breath. Blaine's eyes are dilated a glassy black-hazel and the hints of a smile play at the corners of his lips. He's so relaxed and it's such a change from the last time he'd stripped down to this and bared all.

Kurt shifts his weight to one arm, bringing his hand up to brush back a few of Blaine's curls that have spilled across his forehead and unfurled like flowers at his temples. Before he can reach, though, Blaine's grabbing his wrist and, ignoring Kurt's curious look, opens his mouth—never breaking eye contact—and slides Kurt's index and middle fingers between his lips.

Kurt's breath stutters and his cock jumps. "Oh, _fuck_, Blaine," he groans. Blaine's tongue laves over his skin, his mouth a hot, wet suction. Blaine blinks, looks up through thick, dark lashes as he works lips and tongue over flesh, hollows his cheeks and bobs his head. The sight isn't new—no, not in any way—but it never fails to get his skin jumping, his pulse pounding.

There's the gentle bite of teeth, scraping along his knuckles, and his hips stutter against Blaine's once more, pressing and rocking and wanting _release_. The arm he's holding himself up with shakes, muscles beginning a protest, and Blaine only sucks harder, pulling back slowly to slurp purposefully and lick at the tender skin between fingers. His lips are stretched into a grin when he sinks back down onto Kurt's fingers.

"You _tease_," Kurt complains. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"I do," Blaine says, giving a parting lick to Kurt's index finger. "I just thought I'd get a head start in preparing _you_ to prepare _me_."

Kurt looks at him, dumbfounded. "Blaine Anderson," he begins, "when did you become so _cheeky_?"

"When you showed me what it really means to feel good," Blaine replies with a salacious grin; then he's grabbing the back of Kurt's head and dragging him down, kissing him harder, tongue swiping along Kurt's lower lip before their mouths even meet.

Kurt works a hand between them, feels over the ruffles of Blaine's panties before cupping his cock and squeezing, swallowing down Blaine's desperate, keening moan. He swipes his thumb over the tip and feels the damp stickiness on the silk insides, traces along the lines of hardness and rubs the broad of his palm to feel Blaine's breath hitch and torso undulate.

"I haven't even touched you properly yet and you're already this hard," Kurt whispers in amazement, kissing Blaine's chin, then his throat where he sucks a bruise just at the hollow. He slips his fingers under the waistband, circles around the base of Blaine's cock, works his way down his chest to lave over his nipples, suck another mark into the skin above his left pectoral.

Blaine pushes his hips up into the pressure, arches his back and digs his head into the pillows. Kurt inches the waistband down until Blaine's cock is resting against his stomach and the black lace of the belt; then he's wrapping his hand around, keeping his grip loose, and pumping up once.

"Oh, god," Blaine moans, grabbing onto Kurt's shoulders. His nails dig in, sharp pinpricks of pain, and he hitches his legs higher, scratching fishnets over Kurt's skin. "Kurt, _oh, yes_. I want to ride you, please let me, _please_." The words come out rushed, like Blaine hadn't meant to say them, but they're out, now, hovering in the air and waiting to be evaluated.

Kurt's hand stills at the head of Blaine's cock, grip tightening to the point where Blaine bucks futilely up, and it's a miracle that they both don't come at this very moment. In all of his fantasies since that first time he'd never envisioned Blaine riding him. He'd never imagined how it'd feel, what it'd look like, _anything_. He'd been content with the things he knew: Blaine on his hands and knees, Blaine under him, him under Blaine. Those images had been safe, things he'd seen and thought about before.

And now, he _can't_ stop. Not with the feeling of Blaine under him, the scent of sweat and sex beginning to steep into the air. He imagines Blaine's strongly-muscled calves and thighs flexing as he works himself on Kurt's cock, and it's new but he sees the garter belt still on and snug to Blaine's skin. "Yes," he replies because it's all he _can_ say right now.

He goes to slide Blaine's panties down before he stops, realizing his problem: this stocking-and-garter-belt hybrid is all one piece. He looks at Blaine, who's flushing again, struggling into an upright position. His cock leaves a wet, glistening smear on his abdomen and the belt when it slides away to bob between his legs.

"These are…sort of hard to get off," Blaine says sheepishly, shifting on the bed. "I have to take the garter belt and stockings off first."

"As long as you put them back on," Kurt replies, voice tight. His hands go to the waistband of the belt, fingers slipping underneath and drawing it away from Blaine's skin. Blaine's fingers join him and they both inch the top of the belt down to Blaine's thighs.

"I've got it," Blaine says, smiling and standing up. He slowly works the stockings down and off his legs, laying them gently next to Kurt on the bed, and before he can touch the waistband of his panties Kurt's hands are there, brushing over Blaine's hip bones, the deep V and the trimmed patch of dark pubic hair, the length of his cock and the waistband tucked under his balls. Kurt leans forward, licks over the head of Blaine's cock once and is rewarded with a throaty groan and fingers briefly in his hair.

Kurt backs away and slides Blaine's panties off, letting the backs of his fingers brush gently over Blaine's skin as he goes. He holds eye contact, watches the nearly-imperceptible widening of Blaine's darkened eyes as he lifts up one foot, then the other, and Kurt lets the panties fall to a heap between Blaine's legs.

"Hold on," Blaine says quietly, more to himself, and he reaches for the stockings again, rolling them slowly up his legs and fitting the band snugly around his waist. Kurt sucks in a deep breath and lies back on the bed, propped up by the pillows, his heart pounding and cock throbbing.

"C'mere," Kurt murmurs, holding out his hand. He doesn't stop his eyes from roaming Blaine's body, doesn't stop his gaze from lingering on Blaine's cock, hard and dark and wet at the tip, jutting away from his body, away from thighs and a trim waist encased in feminine black material.

_How he got this lucky, he doesn't know_.

Blaine carefully straddles Kurt's hips and looks down, raising an eyebrow at the straining front of Kurt's boxer briefs. "I think this whole 'naked' thing needs to be mutual."

Kurt smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and kisses Blaine, pressing a palm to his cheek and feeling the hinge of his jaw working as Blaine's tongue rubs against his own. They pull away and he carefully inches his underwear down, letting Blaine slide it off his legs and drop it to the floor.

Blaine straddles his waist again, bending down to fit his mouth over the jut of Kurt's collarbone and take a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and rolling until Kurt's arching up against him with a cry, rutting their cocks together.

"Lube," he breathily groans when Blaine licks over the blossoming bruise he'd left. Blaine lifts his head, raising his eyebrows.

"No condom?"

Kurt shakes his head, grabbing onto Blaine's shoulders before sliding down to brush against the garter belt and crisscrossed lace straps. "I want to come inside you." It's the first time he's ever said those words outside late-night fantasies and something blooms warm inside him when he does at the knowledge that they've come this far; he can say these things.

Blaine swallows and straightens up. He carefully reaches into his bedside drawer and fishes around until he finds the bottle, pressing it into Kurt's hand. His fingers tremble slightly where they press against Kurt's but he still smiles, looks more at-ease than nervous.

Kurt presses it back with a shake of his head. "I want you to prepare yourself," he explains at Blaine's confused look, and _this_, however, is new, the whole touching-themselves-in-front-of-the-other thing.

Blaine chews on his lower lip and nods, popping open the cap. He looks a little unsure, nervous, but at the same time Kurt can see that he _wants_. He squirts a dollop onto his index and middle fingers, rubbing it around with his thumb to warm it up. Kurt holds onto Blaine's hips, waiting, and sucks in a breath when Blaine spreads his legs a little further and reaches a hand behind himself to circle his hole before pressing in.

Blaine lets out a quiet sound, arm flexing as he begins to work in two fingers. His hips stutter forward and Kurt reaches out, rubs his thumb over the head of Blaine's cock and down the length along the veins. Blaine moans, lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks as he stretches his fingers, pulls out to add more lube and press three deep to the last knuckle, his groan getting caught in his chest. Kurt stares, can't look away, as Blaine works himself slowly open, pushing back against his fingers and moaning quietly whenever he presses just right and skates across that spot.

Kurt fumbles for where Blaine dropped the lube, clicking the cap open and messily slathering his cock, his hips stuttering up into the touch. Blaine's fingers slide free and he moves forward, reaches that same lube-slick hand down behind him to grasp the base of Kurt's cock and hold it upright. Kurt grips onto Blaine's thighs and presses their lips together as Blaine slowly begins to slide down.

"Oh, god," Blaine groans when his ass is finally flush to Kurt's hips. His eyes are squeezed shut, forehead pressed to Kurt's and sweat beginning to shine on his skin. The fishnets are rough on Kurt's skin, rubbing reddened marks onto his thighs and sides.

Kurt clenches onto the X of the crisscrossed straps, rocking his hips up. Blaine moans but doesn't move, only swivels his hips slightly on Kurt's lap as he adjusts.

They don't say anything. Eventually Blaine's breathing evens out and that's when he sits up, grabbing onto the headboard, and lifts up before sliding back down. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and moans, thighs quivering on the bed. Blaine slides back up, almost to the head of Kurt's cock, and down with a soft grunt.

Two moans, and it's like the invisible boundaries they'd had set up come down. Blaine grips his cock with his free hand, rocks forward and swivels his hips. Kurt's head presses back into the pillows and whenever Blaine lifts up next Kurt fucks up to meet him halfway, their skin slapping mutedly together. Blaine's muscles work under the fishnet and lace and Kurt briefly wonders what it would have looked like to see his cock slide in and out of Blaine's hole from behind, to grip onto the waistband of the garter belt as he fucks in and out.

"Fuck, yes," Blaine moans, head tipped back as he works his fist over his cock with a series of slick noises. "Oh my god, Kurt. Fuck me harder, please, _fuck_."

Kurt blinks his eyes open and watches the slackness of Blaine's jaw, the light sheen of sweat over his skin. He watches Blaine's thighs flex under the stockings, can't look away from the slick red-flushed head of Blaine's cock reappearing and disappearing into the circle of his fist. He finally gets Blaine balanced up on his knees and fucks hard into him with thrusts that rip grunts from his chest and shake the bed frame. Blaine whimpers, his weight supported with both hands on the headboard, and remains still until Kurt slumps back down.

"Close," Blaine groans when he takes control, rocking his hips side-to-side, lifting up and fucking back down. He bends down, presses his mouth to Kurt's sloppily, nearly missing his mark. Kurt tangles his hand in Blaine's hair, working through the loosening gel to tug. "Baby…right _there_, ooh, _yes_."

"Come on, sweetheart," Kurt cajoles, pulling back enough so that their lips still brush when he speaks. Blaine's breathing harshly, heavy like he does when he's close, and his eyes are unfocused when Kurt pulls back all the way to place his hands flat on Blaine's hips and rub over the lace and mesh.

Blaine lets go of the headboard, leans back and places his palm on Kurt's thigh. Weight supported there, he lifts up until just the tip of Kurt's cock is stretching him and slams back down, angling his hips along the way. His back arches and he cries out, repeating and repeating until he slams back down one last time and starts to come over his fist, back rigid and mouth dropped open.

He clenches around Kurt as he comes and that's all it takes for Kurt to groan and shallowly thrust up into Blaine's pliant body, cock pulsing as he comes. Everything is static in his post-orgasm glow, fuzzy and heavy and perfect.

When Kurt blinks his eyes open he notices the splashes of white on the belt, on Blaine's abdomen, and on his own chest. Blaine carefully gets up, wincing when Kurt's cock slides free, and flops down beside Kurt with a deep sigh.

"I can feel your come inside me," Blaine eventually says. Kurt flushes red. "It's…I don't think 'nice' is the right word, but it's not bad." He turns his head and stares into Kurt's eyes, a sated smile crossing his face. "It's you so I guess it _is_ nice."

"You're so cheesy," Kurt responds, swiping his thumb over Blaine's cheekbone and then smoothing his palm along the dips of Blaine's sides, down to his hips where he plays with the band of the belt. "I'm just happy you're sharing this part of you with me.'

It's Blaine's turn to blush now, crossing his legs over each other self-consciously. "I'm just glad you like it," he says softly, nearly mirroring his words from last time. "I was so, _so_ afraid you wouldn't."

"I love everything about you," Kurt replies, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Blaine's lips. "Sexy lingerie or not, Blaine, I love _you_ and that's all that matters."

"Good," Blaine says against his lips, sliding his fingers into Kurt's hair, "because I have a _lot_ more."


	3. Fix A Vice With A Vice

Wow, okay, so this somehow spawned into a whole 'verse (and it's now entitled "Aubergine Dreams"!) All titles come from Panic! At The Disco's _A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_ inset  
>Warnings are: facials, breathplay, genderplay, a whole hell of a lot of dirty talk, possessivness. Once again, Blaine's outfit is on my Tumblr if you want to have a visual.<p>

Reviewers (and rebloggers on Tumblr), oh my god I'm so happy you all love this. It means so much, especially since I was apprehensive about posting the first chapter in the first place.

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong>endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com<strong>

**xxxxXxxxx**

When Blaine had said _a lot more_, he had meant it.

Kurt wonders when his life had begun to revolve around nightly fantasies of his boyfriend modeling in a Victoria's Secret show, but he supposes that it has something to do with Blaine's once-secret stash of fine, expensive lingerie, ranging from silks to meshes to laces and frills, bows and straps and ties, to thigh-high stockings in blacks and pinks and sheers, all decorated with bows and attachable garters and lace, sometimes ruffles and sometimes fishnets.

They're upstairs in Blaine's room, door locked (in case Cooper, who's visiting for a week, decides to unexpectedly drop in) and the drawers of his vanity opened. Kurt's eyes had widened at first at the sight of row upon row of silky, brightly-colored fabrics and again he wonders why Blaine has waited so long to tell him.

Either way, he's glad Blaine is now and that he feels comfortable enough to show Kurt everything all at once.

"When did you even buy all this?" Kurt asks curiously, fingering a pair of plain pink silk panties. Paired underneath them are ribbed pink stockings with garters and bows on the bands. He imagines Blaine buying this all online, trying it on when it arrives, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, closing his eyes briefly to calm himself.

When he opens then again Blaine is still looking through the drawers, running his fingers along the ruffles of a particularly adorable (_sexy_) pair of turquoise-and-gray panties. He doesn't answer right away, seemingly off in his own world, and Kurt wonders if it's a new thing or if Blaine's known nearly as long as he's known that he's gay.

"About two years ago?" Blaine finally says, then shrugs, like it's no big deal. "Before I went to Dalton. I don't buy very often, though. Just if I'm…feeling the need."

Kurt's abdomen floods with heat at the thought of Blaine having all this back before they even knew each other, back during their unfortunate "friends" phase, but it's counteracted by the obvious sadness in Blaine's voice, at the despondent way he picks up a plain back garter belt and puts it back halfheartedly.

Kurt places his hand on top of Blaine's. Blaine looks up and Kurt gives him a smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. "You can tell me," he says softly, stepping a little closer to place his other palm on Blaine's cheek. Blaine unconsciously leans into the touch and lets out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed, and Kurt loves that Blaine looks his most serene when Kurt's hands are on him or Kurt's inside him one way or another.

"I feel sexy when I'm doing this," Blaine whispers, looking like he wants to roll his eyes at himself and how silly he's being. "It's hard to feel sexy when people are throwing insults at you on a day-to-day basis and spray-painting horrible words on your locker."

"You're beautiful," Kurt replies instantly. "You always have been, always will be. All of this"—he gestures toward the drawer—"just enhances that."

Blaine rolls his eyes this time but smiles anyway, gratefully squeezing Kurt's hand. "You're such a sap sometimes," he says fondly. "But I love you."

"Mm and I love you, too," Kurt replies, ducking his head to give Blaine a quick peck. "Now what do you say we go downstairs and have some coffee instead of going out?"

**xxxxXxxxx**

Since school's started back up they've had less and less time to spend together. There have been tests and graduation plans and apartment-browsing with Rachel to avoid dealing with dorms, and Blaine's been looking at college apps for next year. Kurt's been nervous about his NYADA auditions for months despite Blaine's constant reassurances that _you're the best Lima has to offer, baby, don't even sweat it_.

(Kurt knows he's good; he's not blind. But he's _Ohio_ good, not _New York_ good, and he doesn't have the heart to tell Blaine that, nor does he have the patience to suffer through every single one of Blaine's motivational speeches he has memorized for occasions like these.)

It's a blessing to have this day alone, even if it's only for a few hours, and making a pot of coffee with Blaine makes Kurt itch for the next year to fly by so that Blaine can join him in New York and they can find creative ways to kick Rachel out for extended periods of time.

Kurt slides Blaine's mug over to him after putting in the last drip of hazelnut creamer, and Blaine beams his thanks, wrapping his fingers around the handle and lifting the mug to his lips. He blows softly and closes his eyes as he takes a sip. Kurt's immediately struck at how beautiful Blaine looks in this moment, how peaceful and worry-free for once with no lines furrowing his forehead and mouth. There is no looming graduation, no memories of bullies and backstabbing friends. There's just them, learning each other and existing in their own world.

Kurt picks up his mug and they take their coffee to the huge oak table in the dining room, pulling back chairs across from each other and sitting down. They drink in silence, communicating only with eyes and soft touches. It's still two hours before Blaine's dad his due home and he tends to run late most nights, anyway.

Finally, when Kurt's down to the very dregs of his mug Blaine clears his throat and looks up, gnawing on his lower lip. Kurt tilts his head in confusion, crinkling his nose as Blaine continues to stare. "What?"

Blaine swallows. "What would you say if I had something a little different than just panties and stockings?"

Kurt raises an eyebrow but doesn't express anything else. "I'd ask what it is."

Blaine laughs and bobs his head in a nod, looking at the large seasonal floral centerpiece on the table. "You wouldn't judge me?"

"Blaine, my god," Kurt sighs. "How long have we been dating?"

"Right. Uh. I, um…" Blaine coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have something a little more…full-bodied, but I had to get rid of the underwear."

Kurt raises his eyebrow but only wraps his hand around his coffee mug, not saying anything. It's amazing that Blaine is still shy about all of this even though they've been using the lingerie for a few weeks now and Kurt has _not_ been shy about his appreciation of the view of Blaine's ass clad in thin silk or cotton. Blaine refuses to look at him and instead stares down into the contents of his own mug like it will somehow blurt out the reason for him instead.

Finally Kurt sighs and rolls his eyes, leaning across the table to take Blaine's hand. "Blaine, honey," he says gently, "you know you can tell me anything. We went into this together and I _love_ it, you know that. You look more beautiful with every new thing you put on, and I'm so glad you trust me enough with all of this because I _do_ want to share it with you."

"It was a g-string," Blaine blurts out suddenly, face reddening further. He takes a gulp of his coffee and Kurt winces for him, stroking his thumb idly along the back of Blaine's hand and wordlessly telling him to calm down. So, this mysterious full-bodied outfit had come with a thong. There was nothing wrong with that. "And…I would have kept it," Blaine says, continuing, "but this one, unlike the others, wasn't made for…men."

Kurt inhales. So that's why. Things made for women were naturally more provocative, sure, since they had more assets—for lack of a better word—to work with, and though Blaine was tiny and fairly trim for a guy, a woman's size in panties would most definitely not work.

"So you got another pair." It's a statement, not a query.

"I got another pair," Blaine says, finally meeting Kurt's eyes. There's a darkened tint to them that Kurt's pleased to see has finally made its comeback. "They're the same style, just tailored for, uh, men."

"And what does this mysterious outfit look like?"

Blaine smirks, then, licks his lips and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. Kurt unconsciously mirrors his movement, still keeping his hand on Blaine's, and squirms slightly in his seat at the sudden roughness of Blaine's voice. "Well," he drawls, rolling the word around in his mouth and drawing it out like silly putty, "it's black with bandage-style straps and sheer in the middle—front only—but cut out on the sides. There's a halter neckline and a garter that attaches to the matching stockings."

Kurt swallows, his mouth dry and cock beginning to press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. "And the underwear?" he croaks out, tightening his grip slightly on Blaine's hand.

Blaine continues to smile and leans closer until he and Kurt are inches apart, their faces beginning to blur. All Kurt can see is wide hazel and pink lips pulled upward. All he can hear is Blaine's soft breathing and the harsh pounding his heart.

"And the underwear," Blaine whispers, "is not the pair that came with the outfit, but it _is_ a matching replica." He works his hand out from under Kurt's, leans forward to rest his palms on the table until his mouth is level with Kurt's ear. "It's a sexy black g-string that I would _love_ for you to push aside before you fuck me senseless."

Kurt inhales, swallowing his gasp at the image. Blaine's description is vague at best, but Kurt's mind is helpful enough to try and fill in the blanks, to piece together Blaine's description with his body, to help him _imagine_ Blaine bent over the bed, pressed against the wall, on all fours, on _top_ of him…and he finally loses it, seizing the collar of Blaine's shirt to tug him forward and mash their lips together, incapable for a few seconds of doing nothing but taking in the feeling of Blaine's soft lips under his; then he's parting his own lips, licking along the seam of Blaine's mouth until he opens like a box who's found its key. He tastes, comes across coffee and cinnamon and hazelnut. He moans.

"Please tell me you can show me now," he asks quietly. "Please, Blaine."

Blaine's breathing just as hard, chest heaving. He nods and then Kurt's standing up, leaving his half-full mug on the table and crossing over to Blaine's side to grab his hand and tug him away and up the stairs to his bedroom.

At the middle of the steps Kurt slams Blaine against the wall, slotting a leg between Blaine's thighs to press upward, and Blaine groans into his mouth, fingers digging into Kurt's hips. He's steadily losing control, Kurt knows it, but he can't find it in himself to _care_, not with the promises hanging over his head.

"God, I want to fuck you so bad," he whispers against Blaine's neck, taking his time to gently bite and suck, feeling Blaine shudder underneath him, his neck craning to the side as his hands come to rest in Kurt's hair. "I don't care how, but I need you."

"Need you, too," Blaine whimpers, grinding against Kurt's thigh. He sounds just as wrecked, if not more so. "Oh—_Jesus_—Kurt."

They finally stumble up to Blaine's door, Kurt's hand firmly on Blaine's ass and Blaine's hand pushed up under Kurt's shirt. "I—I have to change," Blaine gasps when Kurt takes his lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently. "W-wait out here."

Kurt whines and pouts but pulls back, running his tongue over his swollen lips. Blaine looks _wrecked_ already, hair mussed and sticking up, lips just as red and slick and swollen. "Hurry up," he begs, pushing Blaine through the open door.

Blaine gives a jerky nod and steps in, hand closing around the handle to shut the door, but before he can Kurt puts his foot out, stopping it. Blaine looks at him, confused, and Kurt half-lids his eyes, channels his voice into what he hopes is a smoky purr, and says, "Remember, I want the whole package. Underwear and all."

Blaine blushes and closes the door.

**xxxxXxxxx**

Blaine's in his en suite bathroom when Kurt steps into the room. He stands in the middle of the floor, fidgeting, as he waits for the door to open, for Blaine to step out and _show_ him.

And he's not disappointed when it happens.

He hears the turn of the knob and the creak of the hinges first and immediately snaps his head toward the direction of the bathroom. He holds his breath, unaware that he's doing it, as Blaine steps out.

"Oh my _god_." Kurt closes his eyes and groans, feeling the sudden spark in his chest travel down to his groin. "_Blaine_, Jesus _fuck_."

Blaine's leaning on the doorframe, hip popped, and the outfit is even _better_ than how he described it. The bandage-style black strips of fabric start at the middle of his chest, over his nipples, and continue down to close to mid-thigh. The mesh is there, dark in the front, and the halter top is the same black fabric wrapped in a tight circle around Blaine's neck and connected to the body with two strips of black. The underwear is the smallest piece of fabric Kurt's ever _seen_ and does nothing to hide the outline Blaine's straining half-hard cock.

The stockings are different (and _god how many does he own_), just a plain black attached to the chemise with thin black garters, and everything is so _tight_, molding to Blaine's every curve and muscle. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think that this outfit had been made for a man, not a woman. How Blaine wears everything so well he'll never know, but he _does_ know that he'll never complain.

"Turn around," Kurt says, willing his voice to stop shaking. Blaine beams at him and steps forward, turning gracefully on the spot. The chemise's straps continue in the same pattern down his back but without the mesh; instead of the usual full-butt underwear Kurt is rewarded with a thin black strip above the rounded cheeks of Blaine's ass that disappears into the cleft.

"You weren't kidding," he near-whispers, stepping forward to run his finger along one of the strips. Blaine keeps his back to Kurt but he turns his head and Kurt can see the faint rise of an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't kid about that," he says, reaching around to take Kurt's hand. He slowly turns his body to meet Kurt's eyes, to press up against Kurt's chest. "I do this all for you."

Kurt lets a soft noise that he can't even place escape his mouth. His eyes flicker from Blaine's eyes, down to his neck, the length of his body and the straining weight of his cock against his underwear, and he raises an eyebrow. "You do it for yourself, too."

Blaine laughs and leans up to press his lips softly against Kurt's, working his fingers between Kurt's in the hand he's still holding. When he settles back on the flat of his feet Kurt's eyes flutter open, heart racing already, and hooks his index finger underneath the fabric wrapped around Blaine's neck, drawing it away from the skin and pulling slightly. Blaine lets out a small gasp, his own eyes closing again, and tilts his head back, away from Kurt to increase the pressure.

Kurt lets his free hand slide down Blaine's side, letting his palm bump along the slight resistance of the straps, and curves around until he's cupping one of Blaine's cheeks in his palm. He squeezes and Blaine moans, pushing back and reaching behind himself to grab Kurt's hand and slide it over to the divide between his cheeks. There's the faintest feel of silky fabric there and Kurt draws in a shuddery breath, moving his other hand from Blaine's neck down to Blaine's other cheek, squeezing tightly again before drawing him open.

Blaine groans, murmuring "_Kurt_" and drawing it out, taking his time on the _R_. Kurt hooks his chin over Blaine's shoulder to look down his back, watch as he draws Blaine's cheeks apart to expose the thin black string leading down to where it finally connects with the underwear just behind Blaine's balls. He keeps Blaine open the best he can with one hand and moves the other to hook a finger around the strap at the top of his ass, drawing it away and between his fingers before letting it snap back down. Blaine moans loudly and jerks forward.

"God, Blaine," he whispers, turning his head to press sloppy kisses against the side of Blaine's neck, feeling the moan continue under his lips. "The things you do to me."

He turns his head, pulls back, and then they're kissing deep and wet and dirty, Blaine's tongue slipping between his lips to trace along his teeth and the soft inside of his cheek. A hint of dark desperation plays at the edges like a looming fog. He clenches his hands in Blaine's hair, tugs and pulls until Blaine's pressed tight against him, moaning into his mouth. He drops his hand to run his palm down the mesh front of the chemise, down further and under the hem to cup Blaine's cock and rub along the outline, feel the heat seep into his palm.

Blaine whines and pulls away with saliva-slicked lips, pushing his ass back further before into Kurt's touch, his body bowing into Kurt's chest. "Please," he begs. "Kurt, just…do _something_. _Anything_, god." He presses their mouths together again, kissing sloppy and desperate, and fists his hands into Kurt's hair.

"The things I _plan_ on doing to you," Kurt whispers back, sliding a leg between Blaine's thighs and feeling the resistance brought on by the garters as he presses up. "I want to do _so much_ to you, Blaine. I—_bend over_."

Blaine blinks at him, obviously confused, and Kurt feels his face heat with embarrassment at his sudden apparent lack of a filter. "You want me to bend over?" Blaine asks hoarsely, cheeks tinged a light red, and it's obvious that Kurt's words have had an effect. That's something that still makes Kurt swell with pride—the knowledge that _he_ can do this to Blaine so easily, that all he has to do is say a few words and Blaine's collected demeanor crumbles immediately.

"Yes," Kurt says, running his hand down Blaine's side to rest at his hip, squeezing. His face is still red but most of the embarrassment has dissipated to be replaced with the familiar _want_. His cock is digging painfully into his zipper, skin feeling too-tight under his too-many layers. "Against the bed."

Blaine kisses him, a quick peck, and then he's stepping back, walking toward his bed. He glances back at Kurt once more before bracing his hands on the edge of his bed and spreading his legs, jutting his ass up.

Kurt sucks in a breath and squeezes his cock at the sudden surge of arousal. This position stretches the chemise slightly, the hem riding up to rest just at the crease where ass becomes thigh. It digs in and rucks the stockings up slightly, stretching perfectly over the curve of Blaine's ass. The spread of Blaine's cheeks allows more of the thong to show—a dark, promising shadow—and Kurt's steps up to stand behind Blaine, running his palms over Blaine's ass, over the straps of the chemise and down to the stockings.

"Beautiful," he breathes, stroking gentle fingers down tanned skin made slightly scratchy by fine dark hairs. He can feel the muscles working under his touch, everything flexing as Blaine stands, immobile under Kurt's careful scrutiny.

Blaine squirms, either from the touch or the anticipation of what Kurt could do next, and shifts on his feet. "Well?" he finally asks, shaking his ass enticingly, his voice holding that playful, flirty tilt that Kurt loves. Kurt whimpers at the sight, digs his fingers into the ample flesh of Blaine's cheeks, and that tilt of Blaine's voice deepens and drags into sex as he pushes back slightly, brushing against the front of Kurt's jeans.

Kurt reaches around the front of Blaine's thighs, fumbling blindly for the garters and unhooking them when he finds them. When the chemise is no longer restricted he pushes it up further until Blaine's ass is bared.

"I should fuck you like this," Kurt muses, pulling the string of Blaine's thong aside to thumb drily over his asshole. "Just you against the bed with nowhere to go other than back on my cock."

Blaine moans, high and clear and reedy, and practically sobs out Kurt's name as he grinds back against his thumb. "Please, please," he gasps. His self-control is quickly beginning to unravel like a cheap wool sweater, everything dropping and coiling at his feet to leave him open and bare and vulnerable in the most delicious of ways. It's intoxicating, the way he begs, the way he looks when he's like this.

It's the side of Blaine no one, not even the Warblers, got to see. It's the Blaine who's not as sure about himself as it would seem; it's the Blaine who's been bullied, beaten up, stabbed by friends and yelled at by friends and forgotten by friends. This is Kurt's Blaine, no one else's. And Kurt cherishes this Blaine just as much as he cherishes the public one.

Kurt leans down, draping himself over Blaine's back, and cups Blaine's cock through the thin material of the fabric, feeling where it's soaked with pre-come. "Do you like that?" he whispers into Blaine's ear, slipping Blaine's cock out and feeling it pulse, hot and hard and slick already, in his hand. "Does this make you feel sexy?"

"Yes!" Blaine's voice climbs higher as he arches against Kurt's chest. Kurt traces his tongue along the shell of Blaine's ear, buries his nose in dark curls that still retain the faint smell of strong-hold gel. "God, yes, Kurt. So sexy with you like this."

"Do you _want_ me to fuck you like this?" Kurt asks, lips still pressed against Blaine's ear. He palms over the head of Blaine's cock to slick his movements the best he can before stroking tight up-down once, leaving Blaine rocking against him and moaning low in his throat. "Just like this, fast and slick and rough, with your chemise still on and your sexy little panties pushed aside?"

Blaine only moans, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tell me," Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear, tightening his grip and twisting his wrist at the head, the way that makes Blaine's toes curl without fail every single time. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you. You know that."

"Oh my god," Blaine gasps again. "Oh my _god_." He turns his head, seeking out Kurt, and presses their mouths hard together when he finds him, their lips sliding wetly, sloppily, as Kurt works over Blaine's cock. "Fuck me," he says against Kurt's lips, his voice shaking and his shoulders quivering. His arms tremble where he holds himself up and he looks wild, hair sticking up, eyes huge and blown black-hazel like the hide of a bumblebee. "Fuck me just like you said. I want it, god, yes. I _need it_."

Kurt kisses him once more and draws away. He lightly pats one of Blaine's cheeks fondly and Blaine startles slightly at the touch, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Good boy," Kurt murmurs, stroking over flesh, running his fingers along the chemise to feel where it's stretched taut against Blaine's side. "My perfect, pretty little boy."

Blaine whines, his cock jumping in Kurt's hand, and Kurt would be more surprised at what he's saying if it didn't have such an obvious, wanted effect on Blaine. Where this all is coming from he doesn't know—by nature he's not usually that much of a possessive person, but hearing _mine_ roll off his tongue the way it did, seeing Blaine's back shiver and ripple at the simple word, feeling his _cock_ jump in his grasp, this all awakens something new, something thrilling and exciting and perfect.

"Be back in a second," he murmurs against Blaine's shoulder, giving him a parting kiss. "Need to get the lube."

He sheds clothes as he goes, dropping layer after layer onto the floor until he's in nothing but boxer-briefs. He rummages around in Blaine's nightstand, pushing papers and CDs and pens aside until he finds the bottle. He shuts the drawer and looks up at the end of the bed where Blaine is still bent, where he's looking at Kurt with darkened hazel eyes and swollen red lips. Kurt can just barely see Blaine's cock hanging heavy between his legs; he's more entranced with the way the halter of the chemise is wrapped around Blaine's throat, how amazingly _beautiful_ it looks against his tanned skin.

He thinks back to how he'd pulled on that collar-like strap before, how Blaine had gasped and pulled further away to increase the pressure against his windpipe. Breathplay hasn't ever been something he's really thought about because of risks and the sheer fact that it wasn't something that he himself found particularly arousing. In his opinion it's dangerous and foolish.

But maybe, with Blaine, it wouldn't be.

"Miss me?" he teases once he takes his place behind Blaine again. He presses soft kisses starting between Blaine's shoulder blades that move down along the dips and ridges of his spine between the thick straps. He stops at mid-back, leaning up and bending forward again to cup Blaine's face and press their lips together.

"Mm, always," Blaine replies, breathless.

Kurt smiles softly and pops open the cap with his thumbnail, straightening up and pouring some lube onto his fingers. He warms it up before he pushes aside the strap of Blaine's thong and rubs the slick pad of his index finger over Blaine's hole. Without waiting for anything other than Blaine's shaky exhale he pushes in, rubbing along the side of Blaine's hip to help him relax.

Blaine moans softly, wordlessly, and rocks back onto Kurt's finger. He tilts his ass up a little higher, spaces his legs a little further apart, and Kurt would be laughing at his silent way of begging for more if he wasn't so _damn_ turned on right now.

Swiveling his finger slightly, he pulls out to the tip and crosses his middle finger over his index and then pushes back in, groaning under his breath at the way Blaine clenches around him, the way he gasps and moans.

"You feel so good," he murmurs. "So tight. It feels good opening up for me, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

"Yes," Blaine replies instantly, rocking back onto the balls of his feet. He circles his hips, reaches back to stroke shaking fingers along the delicate bones of Kurt's wrist. "Yes, oh, shit." He swallows and ducks his head, hand falling down to fist his cock. "More, baby."

Kurt obliges, pulling his fingers out completely to re-slick three of them, crossing them before teasing the rim of Blaine's hole, stroking along the slowly-stretching flesh and the smooth, dark skin surrounding it. When he pushes three in Blaine's back bows and his moan is sudden, loud, like it's almost ripped out of him, cracking in the middle and fraying in the end to a ragged pant.

He crooks his fingers, working slowly in and out until Blaine jolts forward, letting out a choked sound. Kurt smirks and presses against that spot again, rubbing gently and purposefully until Blaine's almost sobbing. "So good for me," Kurt whispers, draping himself over Blaine's back again to kiss him. Blaine whines into his mouth when Kurt stretches his fingers as far as he's allowed, tracing along the stretched rim with the pad of his thumb.

"You look so filthy like this," he whispers, twisting his fingers and shooing Blaine's hand away from his cock. He thumbs over the head and says, "So ready for me, aren't you. So willing to be fucked until you're crying from how good it is."

Without waiting for an answer Kurt slides his fingers out and picks up the lube from where he'd dropped it onto the bed. Blaine twists to look back at him, mouth swollen and eyes wide, dark and hooded and _waiting, _a bright, sparking pinprick like lightning flashing when his eyes meet Kurt's. Kurt holds this gaze as he pours some lube onto his palm and slicks up his cock with twisting strokes, rubbing the extra around Blaine's hole.

He presses close and grasps his cock to rub the slick head along the cleft of Blaine's ass, over his lube-slick stretched hole and the thin strap of his underwear. Blaine clenches his fists in the comforter and groans, pressing his forehead against a tangled mess of browns and reds. He pushes back, unwilling to remove his hands from the bed. "You're so _slow_, oh my _god_," he complains, voice slightly muffled by the sheets.

Kurt laughs and playfully swats at Blaine's ass, letting the quiet sound of skin-on-skin and Blaine's surprised gasp ring out. "I'm just enjoying the view. Now shush."

Blaine falls silent and the chemise is pushed up slightly, the hem resting at the swell of Blaine's ass with the garters dangling free in the front. The black silk stockings are pushed slightly down to just above Blaine's knees and Kurt takes his time in pulling them up, letting the bands snap loudly against Blaine's skin.

"_Kurt_," Blaine whines, shuffling backward to grind against Kurt's slick, hard cock, letting out a pleased, breathy noise when it slides wetly between his cheeks. "C'mon."

"All right, all right." Kurt draws Blaine's underwear away and takes his cock in his other hand, lining up and pushing slowly in. Blaine stiffens before gradually forcing himself to relax, fingers clenching and unclenching as Kurt bottoms out.

Kurt's eyes flutter closed at the familiar clenching heat, the tiny tremors and spasms of Blaine's body as he adjusts. This is his favorite part—the beginning, the initial reactions when they're both catching their breath and inching toward the good side of the burning stretch. Blaine, slack-jawed and eyes squeezed shut, always looks the best when he's trying to remember how to breathe.

"Oh, _fuck_." Blaine's voice is thin, guttural and shaky, and he clenches purposefully around Kurt's cock, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he's testing. He's really teasing, Kurt knows, and the tightness around his cock spurs him on. He pulls out to the tip and fucks back in, rough and fast.

Blaine falls to his elbows with a surprised yelp, ass pushed high, and grunts with every thrust into him. Kurt can't resist grabbing one of the straps in the middle of Blaine's back and holding as he pounds in, hips slapping lewdly against Blaine's ass with each thrust, and pulling, tugging Blaine slightly up.

"You're so pretty," Kurt grunts, tightening his fingers, one hand still on the strap, the other on Blaine's hip. He rucks up the chemise just a little further to give him a full view, letting go of the strap to do so. "So fuckable. So _mine_." He watches the slide of his cock in between Blaine's ample cheeks, watches Blaine stretch around him, and pauses to wonder when Blaine became _his_.

Blaine huffs a breath in frustration, pushing forward before back to fuck himself on Kurt's cock. The strap of the thong rubs against the side of Kurt's cock when he pulls out again, a reminder that Blaine is still wearing his underwear, that this is _happening_, and he moans and sets up a steady, unrelenting pace that has Blaine swaying on the spot and grunting every other labored exhale in, feet planted wide to keep his balance. The bed creaks as Blaine's weight is pushed against it.

"Oh, god," Blaine groans, dropping his head down. "Oh, fuck, Kurt." He rests his weight on one forearm and brings his hand down, grasping his cock and jerking himself off roughly. "I'm yours, yoursyours_yours_."

The absolute certainty in Blaine's voice nearly tips Kurt over the edge; his cock twitches inside Blaine and it takes all of his self-control to hold back, to take a deep breath and tighten his hold on Blaine's hips, to space his own feet wider and close his eyes. He lets go of everything: his inhibitions, the nagging voice that says he may be hurting Blaine, and presses his chest against Blaine's back, wrapping his arms around Blaine's chest and angling his hips up.

"Yes, yes," Blaine's chanting, body rocking as he works his cock through his fist. "Fuck me, _fuck_."

Kurt swallows and pulls back with a parting kiss to Blaine's shoulder, licks his lips and looks down, eyes roving over Blaine's sweaty back, over the black straps stretched against strong muscles, up to his shoulders, to the strap around his neck.

The strap.

_Oh_.

The _strap_.

That's when he remembers and that's when he lets go of Blaine's shoulder and curls his fingers in the strap, tugging back enough that Blaine's head tips back and he lets out a strangled-sounding surprised groan. Any words he might have said get cut off as Kurt tightens and pulls a little further. Like this he can barely see the dark fan of Blaine's eyelashes against the tops of his cheeks, their fluttering as Blaine opens and closes his eyes with each labored inhale.

Blaine moans, but it sounds strangled and forced, rough and gritty like gravel. He cants his hips up a little further, opens himself up a little more to take what Kurt wants to give him. He manages to gasp out "Harder" and Kurt complies, hips pressing against Blaine's ass with dull, muted slaps.

There's no warning when Blaine comes, just the tightening of his back, bowstring-taut, and his choked-off wail as he spasms around Kurt's cock and comes in pulses over the side of his comforter. Immediately Kurt lets go of the strap around Blaine's neck and Blaine takes in a great shuddery breath, his exhale coming out as a broken sob as he collapses to his knees.

Kurt kneels down and takes Blaine's face in his hands, heart pounding and an electric-sharp fissure running quick through him as he notices the twin tear streaks running down Blaine's cheeks. "Oh god," he breathes. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, honey, _shit_."

Blaine shakes his head vehemently, managing a tired, sated little smile. He places his hand over one of Kurt's and blinks tear-damp lashes, his hazel eyes as bright and vibrant as ever. "More than okay," he says hoarsely, and Kurt's cock jumps because _he did that, oh my god, Blaine sounds like that because of me_. "I'm fine, I promise. It was just…intense."

"Intense," Kurt repeats dubiously.

"Intense," Blaine reiterates, still smiling. His eyes flicker down to Kurt's cock, still hard and red and slick with lube, and he says, "Aren't you going to come, too?"

Kurt blushes but suddenly an idea flashes across his mind, something he's been wanting to try for months but had never quite worked up the appropriate amount of courage to ask. "Stay on your knees," he says when Blaine moves to get up as well. He receives an inquisitive look in return but Blaine stays where he's at, shuffling a little to get into a more comfortable position.

Kurt swallows and bites his lip, giving his cock an absent stroke as he thinks.

_Blaine__ just let you practically choke him into orgasm. Do you think he's going to say no to this?_

He takes a deep breath and looks down, cupping Blaine's face once again. "Is it…okay if I come on your face, sweet thing?" Kurt asks, running the backs of his fingers down Blaine's cheek. The skin is damp from sweat and those few salty tears, but Blaine is_ glowing_ and sated, loose-limbed and swaying in his spot on his knees.

"Yes," he croaks instantly, looking up at Kurt with unfocused eyes. "Oh, god, _yes_, Kurt. Please come on my face."

Kurt runs his hands through Blaine's hair, damp from sweat, the curls loose and twining around his fingers. He grips his cock, pulls hard from base to tip, thumbing over the head and the spot under the ridge. Moans, rocks forward, and repeats, repeats until his toes are curling into the carpet and his head is tilted back, little whines and groans falling from his lips as he gets closer and closer.

"Gonna come," he pants, blinking heavy eyes open and looking down at Blaine, who's apparently been looking up at him the whole time, transfixed, plush lips parted and waiting. "Blaine, I—"

Blaine closes his eyes at the last minute and opens his mouth a little wider as Kurt starts to come in quick pulses, strands of semen falling and arching over Blaine's brow, the slight bump in his nose, the perfect bow of his lips. Some lands on his chin, dripping down, some streaks across his cheek and into the dark hair of a sideburn.

"O-oh, god," Kurt whispers, stroking himself through it until he twitches from oversensitivity, and it's then that he blinks his eyes open and promptly groans again at the sight of Blaine covered in come—_his_ come.

Blaine's own eyes flutter open, lock with Kurt's, and he smiles, running his tongue over his lips. The strand that had colored his chin has dripped off to splash against the top strap of the chemise.

"You're gorgeous," Kurt says, the words slipping past his lips without him registering it. He drops to his knees and grabs the back of Blaine's head, pulling him forward and into a kiss, ignoring the sticky cooling mess drying on Blaine's cheeks. "And I'm glad you're sharing all of this with me. I am."

Blaine pushes their mouths together again, nips at Kurt's lower lip to hear him moan. "I said I'd share everything in my life with you when I gave you that ring," he murmurs. In Kurt's arms he feels frail but strong, a blossoming flower in the ashes of a once-roaring fire.

Kurt feels the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. "You mean the same ring where you said you'd be 'forever' my 'boy'?"

Blaine colors and tugs Kurt closer. "Yes," he says against the side of Kurt's neck. "Forever whatever you want me to be, wherever you want me to do."

"I think you've out-cheesed yourself, Anderson."

Blaine huffs and laugh and tugs Kurt back until they're both resting on the carpet. They'll worry in a few minutes about stripping the comforter and getting changed; for now the rug at the foot of Blaine's bed is comfortable and their arms are warm. "I'm only getting started."


	4. Precisely Where You'd Like Me

Warnings are: barebacking, dirty talk, use of toys, multiple orgasms.  
>Like usual, the visual for Blaine's panties are at the link for this chapter on my Tumblr :)<p>

Reviews, thank you so much for all the nice things you've said about this 'verse! I know Blaine in lingerie is a bit unorthodox but I love that you love it with me :)

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong>endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com<strong>

**xxxxXxxxx**

**To Kurt**  
><em>I got a little something in the mail yesterday.. and Im wearing them right now<em>

**To Blaine**  
><em>I hate you. Can you come over after school?<em>

In his College Algebra class Kurt squirms in his seat, feeling at once both annoyed and turned-on. It's anyone's guess as to what Blaine could be wearing: after seeing his drawer Kurt's sure that it's something ridiculously sexy or frilly—maybe even both. He rests his phone on his thigh, picking up his pencil to pick up where he left off in his notes. It's not like he's paying attention, though, especially in the last few weeks of school and with him free of taking any finals.

His phone buzzes again a few minutes later. He drops his pencil and unlocks the screen as quickly as he can, feeling his heart hammer overtime against his ribcage.

**To Kurt**  
><em>Of course I can ;) you'll just have to let me slip into something a little more.. comfortable first<em>

Kurt groans internally, looking up at the clock. Blaine knows just how much this gets to Kurt and that he loves it as much as Blaine does. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth and taps out a message to Blaine, pressing send and locking the screen quickly out of paranoia.

**To Blaine**  
><em>I'm going to make you forget everything but my name. Just so you know.<em>

Three o'clock cannot come fast enough.

**xxxxXxxxx**

They both make sure the door is locked and the house is completely empty before Kurt sits on his bed and Blaine stands, fidgeting, in front of the bookcase. Kurt fights the urge to twiddle his thumbs and instead forces eye contact with his boyfriend, wondering why they're both still fully clothed and not rolling around half-naked on the bed.

"Okay, these…" Blaine swallows, looking more turned-on than nervous, which Kurt supposes isn't too bad. It means they've come a long way since starting this. "They're a bit more…daring."

Kurt nods and situates himself comfortably on his bed, trying to disguise his own nerves. Blaine still hasn't taken off the basketball shorts he'd slid on once they'd gotten up to Kurt's room and he'd ducked into the bathroom to change and Kurt is, rightfully, getting a little antsy. He's not exactly sure _what_ Blaine has on that can top the chemise, but whatever it is stains Blaine's cheeks red and brightens his eyes. His fingers play along the waistband of his shorts and Kurt unconsciously licks his lips, a movement Blaine immediately notices and immediately follows with those too-bright eyes.

"Okay." Blaine takes a deep breath, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and looking up at the ceiling. Kurt's mouth dries up and he leans forward. "All right, I'm just gonna…." He shifts on his feet, swallowing with a tiny, nearly-inaudible gulp.

Blaine drops his shorts.

Kurt chokes.

The panties Blaine has on now are a Tiffany blue, made out of thin, slick silk that hangs low on Blaine's hips, stretched tight across bone and muscle with lace detailing and two small bows in the middle. But then…there's Blaine's cock, swollen full and flushed hard, jutting away from his body without any of the silk covering it. Blaine's eyes flicker cautiously to Kurt's, but Kurt doesn't notice. He's sure even if his dad or Finn came in right now he wouldn't notice them, either.

_Crotchless panties._

_Blaine__'s wearing crotchless panties._

"Oh god," he chokes out. It's extremely inarticulate for him and probably not quite the reaction Blaine had been hoping for, judging by the way his hands twitch like he wants to cover himself up. Kurt shakes his head and stands up on wobbly feet, trying to get the blood flowing anywhere but his too-interested dick. He crosses quickly to Blaine, never breaking eye contact. "Oh, god, _Blaine_, why do you do these things to me?"

A small smile lights up Blaine's face at the praise—because that's all he ever wants, he wants to please and be the reason for smiles—and then he's grabbing at Kurt, pulling him close and kissing him hard, deep with tongue and saliva and teeth pulling at lips to produce low, rumbling groans and animalistic growls that leave Kurt groping at Blaine's ass, squeezing his cheeks through the silk.

He notices a slit in the fabric right in the middle, exposing the cleft, and it's wide enough to—oh god, it's wide enough to allow Blaine to leave the panties on.

"Fuck," Kurt breathes harshly into Blaine's ear, whining low in his throat as Blaine sucks and bites at the curve of his neck, leaving marks that Kurt does _not_ care about. Arousal thrums through him quick and fast and dizzying, throbbing to the beat of his pulse, and Blaine is hard and slick and hot against his jeans, pressed tightly between them. "You're just _asking_ to be fucked now, aren't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes." Blaine's answer is immediate, no hesitation, no faltering. His words are sure and steady, leveler than Kurt's heard him speak before. It strikes him how much confidence Blaine has gained through this lingerie tryst: he's not scared anymore, he doesn't bottle as much up. This is his outlet, his release for all those pent-up emotions that he doesn't know how to express in other ways, and if he wants to get them fucked out of him, well, Kurt's only too happy to be the obliging boyfriend.

Kurt squeezes once more before sliding his hand under the waistband, pushing it down past the swell of his ass despite the accessible slit. He teases his fingers down the divide, feeling Blaine shudder and moan helplessly against him, until he reaches Blaine's hole, furled tight, and he brushes the tips of his index and middle fingers against it until Blaine lets out a dry sob and pushes back, clenching his fingers hard into the fabric of Kurt's shirt.

Kurt removes his hand and slides it around Blaine's front, gripping his cock. He cups Blaine's jaw with his other hand, tilting his head before leaning in to kiss him as he strokes up the length once, thumbing the tip to spread the pre-come with his next slide down. Blaine bucks forward, biting down hard on Kurt's lip and tugging when Kurt tightens his grip and swivels his fist.

"So sexy," Kurt breathes, licking across Blaine's bottom lip, feeling his own sting with the phantom pressure of Blaine's teeth. "Christ, I didn't even think you could beat last time."

He feels Blaine smile against him before he's fisting his hands in Kurt's hair and tugging. Kurt groans at the pressure on his scalp, the electric sparks zigzagging through his body and down to his cock, pressed uncomfortably hard against the unforgiving zipper of his jeans. "You know me," Blaine says between wet, sucking kisses, "always have to be better than the last."

"Mmm." Kurt moans appreciatively into Blaine's mouth when he tugs with just the right pressure. He lets go of Blaine's cock and grabs his ass instead, pressing him forward until they're flush and Kurt can feel the rapid inhale-exhale of Blaine's ribs as he catches his breath. In the back of his mind he knows he should start getting rid of a few layers, but he can't bring himself to look away from the flutter of Blaine's lashes and the crease in his forehead as he tips his head back and moans. He looks perfect, at-ease, and Kurt wants to _wreck_ him in the best possible way, make him moan and whimper and beg, arching his back until his ribs jut out and his muscles quiver and strain.

As Blaine ruts up against him, drawing friction with a low whimper from the rough material of Kurt's vest, Kurt's struck with an idea. He's been waiting for the right time to ask and now, with Blaine like this, is always perfect. "Hey," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Blaine's jaw. "Beautiful, I want you to lie on the bed, okay? I've got something for you."

Blaine licks his lips as his eyes blink open slowly open, like he's waking from sleep, the first glinting gold rays of the sun from the abyss of a dark, moonless night. He finally nods after a second's hesitation, smiling at Kurt before pulling away and walking to the bed, sitting down and scooting up to the headboard. Kurt pauses a moment, taking the time to look, to appreciate Blaine like this the way he always does.

Sometimes Blaine doesn't know how _amazing_ he is, how smart and talented and _kind_. Blaine is, to Kurt, the closest that could ever come to earthly perfection, and he realizes just how little time he has left in Lima until college. How _far_ they're going to be apart and how short the time they'll have together will be.

An invisible hand grips his heart, squeezing, and Kurt has to blink quickly to stop the welling tears from overflowing. He distracts himself by walking over to his nightstand and crouching down. He opens the bottom drawer and moves a few notebooks and empty jewel cases until he reaches the box he keeps hidden there.

He pulls it out and sets it on the bed, opening the top drawer to grab his bottle of lube and set that on the nightstand for later. When he turns back around Blaine is looking curiously at the box. "What's this?" he asks, looking down and then up.

Kurt smiles and unbuttons his vest, then his shirt, taking both and draping them over his desk chair. Blaine's eyes never break their gaze as Kurt unbuttons and unzips his jeans next, wiggling them down and off, socks following until he's in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. A low whine rises up in the back of Blaine's throat as his eyes shamelessly rake over Kurt's exposed form.

"Open it," Kurt encourages with a knowing smile, sitting down next to Blaine.

Blaine gives him a look but takes the lid off the box without saying anything. Inside is a long, thick blue dildo; Kurt sees Blaine's eyes immediately widen. He lifts it up out of the box, turning to face Kurt. "Since when did you…?" he begins, the question dying on his lips as he runs a thumb down the smooth length.

Kurt takes it, flicking on the switch at the base. It gently buzzes in his hand as he says, "You weren't the only one preparing to be lonely." He rubs the length of the vibrator against the sensitive skin of his palm, shivering when the vibrations elicit goosebumps. Blaine makes a choked-off sound in the back of his throat and Kurt allows himself a smirk.

He _has_ been internet shopping a lot more now that he's not so reserved about sex. He's come across several sites and toys he's bookmarked for later, when Blaine moves up to New York with him and they can have all the time in the world to try out buttplugs and different size dildoes and vibrators.

He pushes the box off the bed and swings a leg over Blaine's hips, straddling him. Blaine looks up, mouth dropped open, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he asks, "Have you used it yet?"

Kurt shakes his head, pressing the tip gently to Blaine's sternum. The only sounds in the room are their combined harsh breathing and the gentle buzz of the vibrator. Blaine follows every movement, enraptured, his chin tipped down to his chest. Kurt trails it gently over the rise of Blaine's sternum, around his collarbone and pectorals until he reaches a nipple.

When he presses the tip to one of the already-tight nubs Blaine's back arches slightly and he cries out. Kurt lets it linger for a second before turning to the other one, repeating the process until Blaine's squirming under him, bucking his hips up against Kurt's, cock slick and hot and hard against Kurt's abdomen and the crease of his thigh.

"Oh god, oh god, _oh fuck, Kurt_," Blaine whines, neck arched so far back the tendons stand stark. His hands clench into the sheets, torso undulating as Kurt trails the vibrator lower and lower until he reaches the head of Blaine's cock and the tiny bead of pre-come dripping onto the skin of his abdomen above the waistband of his panties.

"I wanted you to use it before I left," Kurt says, and then he's pressing the vibrator to the head of Blaine's cock, right under the ridge and against the little bundle of nerves.

This time when Blaine's back snaps up he doesn't make a sound; his mouth is dropped, eyes squeezed shut, but all that comes out is a rush of ragged breath.

Kurt keeps the tip there for a few seconds, moving it back and forth only slightly, and then he's laying it flat along the length of Blaine's cock, resting the base against Blaine's balls. Blaine jerks violently at the vibrations, looking like he both wants Kurt to press it harder and take it away, and the noise he does make this time swells and dies off in a choking, ragged inhale.

"Do you think you could come like this?" Kurt asks sweetly, deftly twisting the base to turn the setting up another notch. Blaine's back bows again and he moans, long and low and broken, his cock twitching against his abdomen. "Before I even fuck you?"

Blaine whines in response, high and thin and absolutely desperate as he gives in to the shocks his body is receiving, squirming on the bed and twitching his hips upward. "Fuck, oh my god," he gasps, grabbing at the sheets, at the bare skin of Kurt's thigh. His nails dig deep, angry-red crescents as he tosses his head from side to side.

Kurt presses the vibrator a little harder down onto the rigid, flushed flesh, tilting it a little so that most of the pressure is on the tip. Blaine's back undulates, his feet planted flat on the bed as he moans low and long and hoarse to the room, gasping a cry at the end. More pre-come bubbles at the tip of his cock to drip onto his stomach. "Kurt," he chokes out. "Kurt, please, oh god, _please_."

"You can come," Kurt murmurs softly, cajoling. "Come all over your stomach and those pretty panties of yours," he adds on a whisper. He runs his knuckles over Blaine's balls and turns the vibrator up a notch; Blaine's cry rises and falls with his breath, little _uh_s mixed in with high whines as his cock pulses against his abdomen, white painting over sweat-slicked olive skin as he gives in and lets go.

"So beautiful," Kurt murmurs as Blaine's back connects with the sheets once again, his body slumping uselessly into the bed. He removes the vibrator and twists the base to turn it off, his own cock painfully hard and leaking between his legs, dampening the fabric of his boxer briefs. "So good, baby. "

Blaine makes a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat, something cousin or uncle to a whine or contented moan. His eyes are shut as he catches his breath, lets the fuzzy afterglow of orgasm wash over him like waves. Kurt sets the vibrator to the side and grips the base of his cock through his underwear, breathing out through his teeth to calm himself down.

"I think you should be naked," Blaine murmurs, cracking an eye open. He gets up on his elbows, dragging his eyes along Kurt's bare torso. "I like where things go when you're naked."

Kurt laughs and rolls his eyes, saying "That makes two of us" and hooking his thumbs under the waistband and pulling his boxer briefs down his thighs where he lets them fall to the floor with a soft _thump_. His cock bobs in front of him, curving up slightly, and Blaine's eyes are immediately drawn down, his tongue a wet pink flash as he wets his lips and leans forward.

"Can I?" he asks coquettishly, batting his eyelashes and reaching a hand out toward Kurt's cock.

Kurt huffs and inches forward, arching his back slightly as Blaine wraps his fingers around the base, stroking up once to tease over the slit. "Blaine, you can—_fuck_—you can do whatever you want. As long as it's that."

Blaine laughs, then, and gets up on his knees to grab the back of Kurt's head and pull him into a kiss, licking into his mouth and the space under his tongue. His fist slides dryly down once more as he whispers against Kurt's mouth, "That doesn't leave room for very much."

"It leaves room for plenty. Namely, the awesome stuff leading up to me seeing how ridiculously _hot_ you'll look getting fucked with those panties on." Blaine whimpers, fingers tight but still, now, on Kurt's cock. Kurt takes advantage of Blaine's momentary lapse to lean forward, mouthing up along the curve of Blaine's neck until his lips are brushing the shell of Blaine's ear.

He reaches down, rubs the tips of his fingers and the heel of his palm down Blaine's torso, past still-peaked nipples and slightly-damp skin, down to the cool, sticky splatters of come and finally to the waistband of the panties. He lets the heel of his palm brush against Blaine's mostly-soft cock, smiling at the ragged gasp it elicits. "Can you do this for me, hmm?" Kurt whispers hotly against Blaine's ear, sliding his index finger under the waistband to pull away and let it snap back against Blaine's hip. "Can you be a good boy for me, baby?"

Blaine nods and moans softly, tilting his head back, fingers absently tangling hard in Kurt's hair. Kurt presses forward until Blaine's back is flat to the sheets, his legs spread wide as Kurt settles between them. Blaine loves being called that, being _praised_, and whenever Kurt says it he can see the glimmer in Blaine's eyes, the arousal and thankfulness shining in the irises and apparent in the relaxed lines of his face.

"I still need to fuck you, you know that, sweetheart?" Kurt murmurs, still in Blaine's ear, dragging his nails up the inside of Blaine's thigh. He rubs hard at Blaine's perineum through the panties to hear him gasp and cups his balls to hear him whine, purposefully avoiding Blaine's slowly-hardening cock as it swells and fills with blood against his stomach, flushing red-pink with every labored inhale. "Fuck your pretty pink hole that's all open and displayed for me in these slutty panties."

Kurt still flushes a little red at this, feels awkward and like the words are heavy lead on his tongue, thick and too much or not enough. He doesn't want to say that this isn't him—he feels so _right_ talking to Blaine like this, saying all the filthy things that go through his mind when Blaine is spread open for the taking. And Blaine wants, Kurt knows; Blaine wants this more than anything, wants to be owned and taken and ravished until he physically can't anymore.

Kurt likes indulging Blaine. He eyes the vibrator, lying innocuously on the bed next to Blaine's thigh, and grabs the bottle of lube off the bedside table, popping the cap skillfully open with his thumb. Blaine spreads his legs wider before Kurt can open his mouth, shifting on the bed and arching his back.

He lifts up his head, looking at Kurt with a slack jaw and slick lips, eyes half-lidded and heavy. "Bend your legs," Kurt says thickly, warming up the lube between his fingers. He can't look away as Blaine silently obeys, wiggling on the bed until his legs are bent at the knees, feet flat on the bed and the slit in his panties stretched taut across his ass cheeks, the divide dark and tantalizing.

"God, you're so hot," Kurt breathes, leaning down as he circles Blaine's hole with one slick finger, rubbing slightly before pushing in. Blaine groans, eyes slipping shut, and tilts his hips up, sliding Kurt's finger deeper. "Can't wait to feel you around me, baby. Can't wait to make you come _again_."

"Kurt," Blaine whimpers, rocking his hips. Kurt leans up and presses his lips to Blaine's, knowing exactly what Blaine wants even if he doesn't voice it. He pulls back only long enough to add more lube to his fingers, pressing two in as he licks along Blaine's swollen lower lip.

The roughness of the lace trimming of the slit rubs against Kurt's knuckles as he twists his wrist and crooks his fingers, Blaine arching up and crying out, gripping at the back of Kurt's head as he rubs his fingers across that spot until Blaine's fully hard and leaking again against his abdomen.

"Fuck me," he gasps, eyes wild. "God, Kurt, just fuck me." He spreads his legs just a little further apart, tilts his hips up just enough more, and all Kurt can do is look down, taking in the sight of his fingers buried deep, the skin of Blaine's reddened rim stretching tight around his fingers, clenching as Blaine pants and twists on the sheets.

He slips a third finger in and stretches until he can't take it anymore, Blaine letting out a desperate sob of relief as Kurt slides his fingers out and fumbles for the lube again, drizzling it over his cock before slicking himself up with a few quick jerks, grunting at the smooth slide and the strong rush of pleasure at finally being touched.

Blaine has his legs open and up before Kurt's even done; this prompts another groan as he grabs Blaine's ankles and hoists his legs higher, pressing the slick head of his cock against Blaine's stretched hole. "So needy," he murmurs, letting go of one of Blaine's ankles to grasp his cock, holding it steady as he begins to push in, "so ready for me to fuck you, my little slut."

Even in his haze of fuzzy-headed arousal, everything spinning and feeling not-enough, he knows it's possible he could have crossed a line. He freezes for a second, swallowing, afraid that Blaine's going to shove him off and storm out, but all Blaine does is dig his head into the pillows and grip his thighs tightly, pushing himself open wider, exposing the thick length of Kurt's cock half-buried inside him and the blue silk and lace of his panties stretched across deliciously round cheeks.

Kurt snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely, and Blaine moans out a half-scream, eyes squeezed shut and neck bared. Kurt hips twitch forward, just a slight, stuttering movement, and he bends down, letting Blaine's legs fall to cinch at his waist. He grabs Blaine's wrists in his hand and pins them above Blaine's head, pushing down as he begins to snap his hips forward relentlessly.

He can feel the struggle as Blaine flexes against the hold, eyes opening and searching Kurt's face; Kurt smiles and nods, bending down those remaining few inches to kiss Blaine sloppy and wet. He pulls back, watches the flex of Blaine's biceps, the muscles jumping under olive skin. He can already feel the first stirrings of orgasm pulsing just under the surface of his skin, coiling like a spring at the base of his spine. He moans softly as he shifts his hips and Blaine tightens around him, arching up into Kurt's hold.

"God, yes, there," he murmurs, droplets of sweat beading and sliding down from his forehead and hairline, the curls glossy with sweat and gel, the hold breaking at his temples where the first coils spring out and curl against his skin. "_There_, baby, ooh, fuck, Kurt. Yes, _yes_…" He trails off, words lost to a moan as his cock rubs against Kurt's abdomen.

Kurt grunts deep in his chest, wetting his lower lip as he presses closer, forcing Blaine's hips up and off the bed. He tightens his hold on Blaine's wrists as he gets his knees under him and leans up, sliding out to the tip of his cock and back in with one rough thrust. Blaine's jaw drops, a strangled sound coming from the back of his throat as he bucks up.

"Close," Kurt gasps, his voice pinched as each sharp slap of skin-on-skin becomes slicker. He lets go of Blaine's wrists to give himself more leverage before reaching between them, wrapping his fingers around Blaine and jerking him off as quickly as he can.

"_Kurt_." Blaine practically sobs out his name, arching his back and pushing himself back down onto Kurt's cock when Kurt stills for a second. He looks obscene like this, body arched off the bed, hips in Kurt's lap and panties still on, legs now fallen from Kurt's waist, and Kurt can't stop his whimper or the tightening of his hands, one on Blaine's hips and the other still on Blaine's cock. This is what sends Blaine over the edge and he's coming, back rigid and voice lilting on a moan as his cock pulses on Kurt's hand, white splattering for a second time across his chest and abdomen.

Kurt chokes out a gasp as Blaine clenches around him; a few shallow thrusts later he's coming with a shuddering cry, slumping off his knees and Blaine's body goes lax and pliant against him.

"Jesus." It's the only word Kurt can think of as he sprawls across his bed, Blaine pressed next to him. He receives a laugh in return, sated, and when he turns his head Blaine's giving him a dopey smile. Kurt rolls his eyes and leans over to press a kiss to Blaine's forehead. "You're going to wear me out one of these days."

"You make us sound old," Blaine teases, rolling over onto his side. Kurt's eyes flicker down to stare at the panties again, at the bows and pretty lace detailing, at Blaine's softening cock and the splashes of white across his torso.

"A fabulous old married couple," Kurt says, reiterating what he'd said to Rachel just a few weeks ago. "And we'd have all the time in the world and wouldn't have to worry about what time people will be home."

Blaine sighs and rolls onto his back. He's staring up at the ceiling as he says, "I guess that means we have to get cleaned up and dressed, huh?"

Kurt's already sitting up, grabbing his underwear off the floor. "I'm afraid so. However, since you're worse for wear"—he looks pointedly at the drying and dried come on Blaine's torso—"do you want the shower?"

Blaine rolls over again, this time onto his stomach, and he raises his feet and crosses them as he rests his chin on his folded arms. He bats his eyelashes at Kurt and smiles wide as he says, "Only if you'll come with me."

Kurt feels the corners of his lips twitch up and he caves. "I suppose we have enough time…."

Blaine hops up, jumping off the bed and grabbing Kurt's hand. He winces a little as he does and Kurt can't help but laugh, lightly patting Blaine's ass through the fabric of the panties. "Take it easy, tiger."

Blaine backs him up against the door when they get into the bathroom, crowding close and kissing him until they're both red-faced and breathless, Kurt's hands tight on Blaine's hips. Blaine pouts at him, widening his eyes as he asks, "Kiss it better, then?"

Kurt breathes out a laugh and says, "Yes. God, of course, yes. But the panties stay on because these things are fashion's greatest gift ever for asses like yours."

Blaine laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he bends over the tub, bracing himself with one hand as he turns the taps to start the shower. He looks back over his shoulder, shaking his ass slightly, and Kurt groans as he feels his cock taking interest again already. "Well?"

"You're ridiculous," Kurt says fondly, but he's stepping forward and dropping to his knees anyway. "But I love you."

"I love you, too—oh!"


	5. Ridiculously On

Warnings are: masturbation, sexting, minor language.

Since I feel so bad at taking so long to write the next chapter of this, I decided to do an interlude of sorts.

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong>endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com<strong>

****xxxxXxxxx****

"Do you ever think about how we could be doing this face-to-face in just a few years instead of over the phone?" Blaine asks when he and Kurt are doing their usual nightly skin care regimen. He's got his phone on speaker on his bathroom sink as he spreads moisturizer number three, a mineral-enriched moisture cream by Origins, over the apples of his cheeks and blends it in.

He receives no answer for a few seconds, just the clicking of various caps through the connection, and then, finally, Kurt says, his voice soft and wistful and slightly hesitant: "Yes."

It makes Blaine smile, too, just thinking about it. Kurt's nearly done with high school, he's only got one more year; soon they can leave Lima in their rearview mirrors (except for holidays and other family- [or friend-] related exceptions) and get their own place in New York. Blaine doesn't care if it's a broom cupboard or a SoHo loft—as long as Kurt's there, it'll be home.

Kurt lets out a sigh on the other line, clicking the cap closed on what Blaine's sure is his seventh and final bottle. They say nothing for maybe a minute or two as Blaine finishes up as well, screwing the lid closed on jar number four (Clinique) and picking his phone up to change in his bedroom. The silence stretches on, wears thin as Blaine pulls open a drawer and debates for a second.

Just as he's sliding out of today's boxer-briefs Kurt finally says, "I think about it a lot, actually. Living with you, I mean."

Blaine's smile widens until his cheeks begin to hurt and his heart feels pumped too-full with love, with admiration and an incessant need to feel close to this amazing, wonderful boy who's just as smitten with Blaine as Blaine is with him. "Mm, is that so?" he teases, eyeing up his selection.

"Yup." Kurt's voice is just as teasing, just as mirth-filled, and Blaine feels like he could soar when he and Kurt play this game. "I'm thinking about pets."

"A dog and a cat, right?"

Blaine waits for it—"A _small_ dog," Kurt says, right on cue. "His name would be Singer, in homage to your first dog that you got when you were four."

"And the cat?"

Kurt's good-natured eye roll is nearly tangible through the phone. "Dainty June, of course. She'll be the perfect little tortoiseshell and she'll put Singer in his place when he gets too excited."

Blaine feels his chest tighten slightly as everything else tingles with a happiness he'd before thought impossible. "I really, really love you, darling," he breathes, voice quieted to a murmur. The pet name is tacked on at the end, an afterthought, because Blaine knows how much Kurt smiles when Blaine calls him _dear_ or _darling_, how much it makes his face light up and his touches to become more frequent, no matter where they are. It fits with his old-timey, gentlemanly charm, Kurt had said.

Unspoken, they had both agreed that the best way to describe it was _married_. It's perfect, Blaine thinks, and it's what he wants to be able to say in the future.

Kurt laughs on the other end and even through static, through speaker and a connection that cuts off the ends of his sentences sometimes, he sounds beautiful. Everything about him soothes Blaine to sleep at night and it's ridiculous—maybe a little—how reliant Blaine is, but it doesn't matter, not when he's happier than he can ever recall.

He slides his underwear up his legs, runs a brush through his unruly curls (and makes a face in the mirror at the tangled nest on his head; he refuses any sort of deep-conditioning treatments from Kurt, saying gel is just easier to apply in the morning even if his scalp is sore each night from combing it out) and pulls back the corner of his comforter, sliding in and sighing happily as he pulls the heavy comforter back over him. He grabs his phone from his nightstand and switches off the speaker, bringing it back to his ear.

"I love you, too," Kurt practically sings back. Blaine guesses that Kurt's smiling as well now, lips stretched wide so his dimples appear, his blue-gray-green-_everything_ eyes sparkling and shining with a happiness only Blaine ever gets to see. "And I'll see you in the morning, okay, sweetie?"

"Mmm," Blaine hums back, sliding his eyes closed and losing himself in Kurt's voice. "I love you. Sweet dreams."

"You, too," Kurt responds, his voice soft. "Goodnight."

"'Night," Blaine says, pressing the end button on his phone. He sets it back on his nightstand, rolling over to grab his charger from the drawer and plug that in, then his phone. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling for a few minutes, drumming his fingertips on his chest through the comforter.

He shifts slightly, wriggling his hips, and the material of the light-gray panties he'd slid on rub against his cock, a perfect-friction slide of cotton blend. He can't help the small moan that slips past his lips, nor can he help the hand snaking under the covers to rub broad-palmed over himself, the heat beginning to rush and pool so quickly Blaine's immobile to it, held captive as his cock swells and stiffens under his touch, the familiar haze of lust inching at the edges of his conscious mind as the temperature under the covers begins to rise steadily.

He thinks of Kurt: of his lips, his hands, those eyes that darken like the sky before a promising storm. He thinks of Kurt's body weight pressing him down, holding him; thinks of the complete and absolute trust he bestows upon Kurt for this, how Kurt's the only one who's seen his collection, who _knows_. All the usual things that flit across his mind come and go, bright flashes of muscle and flexing tendon, noise and the sharp pleasure-pain of someone—_Kurt_—entering him.

A curling of his fingers and he's grabbing onto the length of his cock through the fabric, feeling the pulse and twitch as he tightens and loosens his grip, moving from the bulge of his balls to the hard line of the shaft. His legs twitch, bend slightly, and he tilts his head back without a second thought, moaning quietly to the darkened ceiling.

He pushes the covers hurriedly down, sighing when the cool air of his room hits his overheated skin. He thumbs over the head of his cock through his panties, feels the damp stickiness of pre-come cling to the head. Looking down he sees a darkening wet spot, sees the obscene bulge of his cock stretching the material, lifting it up away from his body until the swollen head of his cock is nearly peeking out from the waistband. He moans, feels filthy and raunchy and _perfect_, that rush that he always gets when he slides on a pair of panties or pulls up a pair of stockings.

Before he knows it's he's fumbling on his nightstand for his phone, nearly ripping the charger out of the outlet in his haste. He unlocks it and goes straight for his camera, checking to make sure that the flash is on before propping himself up on his elbows, angling his phone to make sure everything from his chest down is visible.

A flash as he presses the button—he doesn't even look over the photo before he's drafting a message to Kurt, attaching the photo and adding _;)_ as an afterthought and sending it seconds later.

He settles back against his pillow, rubbing his knuckles now over the hot length of his cock, breathing out the occasional pant as he waits for Kurt's reply. When his phone lights up just as he's inching the waistband of his panties down he immediately snatches it up from the mattress, unlocking it with one hand before heading straight to the messages. His hips twitch up with the teasing, featherlight touch of his hand.

**To Blaine (11:45pm):**_  
><em>You can't be serious right now. Please tell me you're not serious.<em>_

**To Blaine (11:46pm):**_  
><em>As if I already didn't want to crawl into bed with you enough. Jesus, Blaine. I want to make you moan.<em>_

A reply requires the use of two hands; Blaine groans out his displeasure but moves his hand anyway, squinting at the brightness of his screen and quickly tapping away at the buttons.

**To Kurt (11:47pm):**_  
><em>Fuck. I'm so hard right now<em>_

He leaves it at that, drops his phone screen-down on his bed and pushes his panties to mid-thigh, bending his legs at the knee. The urge to reply to Kurt's messages, to give in and call him, is overwhelming, but he holds back, wanting to surprise Kurt, send him photos when it's something they hardly ever do. He licks the palm of his hand, too far gone to care about lube, to want to spend time getting it out when that time could be spent jerking off instead.

He wraps his fist around his cock with a low moan, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He closes his eyes, breathes deep and lets the darkness of his imagination take over as he slides from base to head, thumbing into the slit.

A moan builds from a small, nearly-inaudible whine into a throaty, guttural noise. A twist of the wrist at the top, tightening at the base, and Blaine's legs try to spread wider, his body giving in to the unyielding pleasure as he falls into muscle memory—all the times he's spread his legs achingly wide as Kurt moves inside him, as he opens himself up and _gives in_.

He remembers the first time Kurt had seen him in lingerie: that dropped mouth, the wide eyes and loss of words—an oddity for Kurt Hummel. He remembers what it had led to then, all the _other_ things it has led to in the past month or so. He pumps his hand faster, muscles starting to burn, but he ignores it, squeezes his eyes tighter and lets his jaw drop, each breath pushed out of him strangled and ragged.

"Oh, god," he gasps, palming over the head of his cock to slick his twist-slide back down. His hips begin to buck up into his grip, fucking his cock through the tight circle of his fist. The elastic of his panties dig into the well-toned muscles of his thighs as he uses his free hand, the one that's been clenching at the mattress, to run down the toned muscles of his abdomen, circle the base of his cock and press against the trimmed, coarse hair before sliding lower to his balls, lower still to brush against his hole. The familiar sparks of pure _want_ crackle through him, making him ache and shiver for more, for what the press of those fingers will lead up to.

He lets the thumb of his other hand press hard against the sensitive spot just under the ridge on the underside of his cock; he shivers and whines at the sudden rush of pleasure, a fresh bead of pre-come pooling in the slit of his cock and sliding slowly down.

He lets his grip slacken, lets the throb of the veins winding around his cock become more noticeable as he glides his hand along the length, envisions that it's Kurt doing the same thing. Kurt straddling him, working Blaine's cock methodically as he leans down, whispers _good boy_ and my _sweet, gorgeous baby, such a slut_.

Kurt on top of him, hand on his own cock, eyes hooded and dark and wanting as he works himself to the edge and over, coming with a lilting cry over the fabric of Blaine's panties, the shape of his confined cock and oh _god_, that's a thing for Blaine now, isn't it?

Blaine whines, breath catching in his throat as the next stroke of his hand brings him that much closer to the edge; everything is pulled-taut, teetering. His balls are drawn up tight and every muscle, every ligament and tendon, are quivering, just waiting for that next stroke that could be the end. He tightens his grip momentarily, twisting a slick-dry stroke at the head, letting the sides of his fingers brush against the velvet-smooth damp skin. "Oh,_ fuck_."

Feet planted on the bed, thighs still trying to pull apart, Blaine angles his hips, tightens his fist, and thrusts up once, twice, the thick, roped veins along the length of his cock pulsing to the beat of his heart as he arches his back off the bed, toes curling, and starts to come with a high, wheedling cry, come splashing thick and heavy on his torso, down his fingers. A streak arches above his nipple as he writhes, working into his fist even as he begins to come down, whining as everything slowly cools, turns to numbness and static, a rushing in his ears as he collapses, sated, onto the sheets.

He gropes groggily for his phone, flipping it over. His hand is still on his softening cock, the last few dribbles of come seeping out and sliding down his fingers in thick, white globules. He has five messages—all from Kurt, and he'll feel bad later about not answering—but right now everything is heavy-yet-liquefied, his bones turned into jelly as he sinks into his mattress. Another angling of the camera on his phone, making sure that it captures the come cooling high on his chest, the combined streaks and splatters on his torso and the strings still connected to the red, glistening head of his cock. His legs are still bent at the knee, panties still stretched tightly across his thighs as they splay open slightly. It's debauched, _filthy_, and Blaine's never felt sexier, more sure of himself.

The camera relays the photo (bent legs, spread with light gray panties stretched across tan, muscled thighs; a hand wrapped around a cock, come glistening thick and white on the head, on fingers and in the dark pubic hair at the base, more come collected in the dips of abdominal muscles, the dark circle of a still-peaked nipple) and he attaches it to Kurt's last message (_I hope you know I jerked off without you_).

A small smile at the angry little words and Blaine lets go of his now-mostly-soft cock, licking his fingers clean with a soft moan because Kurt likes that, has always liked it, especially when Blaine licks Kurt's fingers for him, and quickly types his own reply.

**To Kurt (12:14am):**_  
>Oops, guess I did too<em>

And now, to wait.


	6. Let Me State The Obvious Again

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Glee_, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from the insert of Panic! At The Disco's _A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_.  
>Warnings are: minor breathplay, cross-dressing, swearing, public blowjobs.<p>

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong> endofadream-tumblr-com<br>**

****xxxxXxxxx****

"I think I want a corset."

Kurt looks up from the glossy pages of this month's _Vogue_ he's currently perusing, his eyebrow raised in surprise. He sits up and tucks his legs under himself, pushing the pile of magazines off to the side of his bed. Blaine's at his desk, laptop open but forgotten as he turns in his chair. His eyes are slowly darkening from his usual honey-gold and he holds Kurt's gaze without wavering, without faltering, but Kurt can still see the usual insecurity, the thing about Blaine that he always tries to hide.

Kurt takes a deep breath, clears his throat and tries not to be too overwhelmed at the thought of a corset cinching _that_ tiny waist to make it even tinier. "Are you sure?"

Blaine begins to blush but he keeps his composure, the only thing giving him away being the nervous sliding of his palms over his thighs. Kurt's seen him do that countless times, most of it having to do with his parents. "I'm completely sure," he says slowly, like he's still trying to think of the correct words, the correct way to say it. "After I had the chemise and you, uh, _pulled_ on it, that kind of…opened my eyes, you could say."

It dawns on Kurt, then, and he feels his cheeks flush, the pleasant warmth traveling like lightning down to his groin and stirring his cock as he remembers Blaine gasping for a proper lungful, squirming on Kurt's cock before coming harder than Kurt's ever seen him.

"So. Breathplay," Kurt says softly. Blaine nods, drawing his lips into his mouth to wet them. "That was okay for you?" Kurt already knows the answer—of _course_ because he was there—but he has to make sure. He can't overstep any boundaries, can't make Blaine constantly push himself harder, further, until he reaches a point that he's unable to cross, one that he'll shy away from and balk and that will loosen and break everything they've built up. That isn't the point of Kurt allowing Blaine to share this side of him: it's about confidence, about making Blaine feel good and helping him to forget the world that tells them no, that says it's wrong to like what they like and that does what it can to ensure that they'll never be happy no matter what happens.

"God, Kurt," Blaine breathes, his voice rough and a little harsh, his brow furrowed and his eyes intense, "I _cried_ when I came. I didn't think that actually happened to people."

Kurt laughs, short and breathless, and nods, resisting the urge to blush and look away. "Okay, all right. So breathplay's good. Do you have any idea of what you want in a corset? I mean, I've only had one and it was more of a decorative corset than what I'm sure you're looking for but I know enough."

Blaine shakes his head and stands up to cross the room. He sits next to Kurt on the bed, pressing their bodies close. Immediately Kurt's wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist, resting his other hand on Blaine's knee. He feels safe like this, comforted by Blaine's presence, the rise and fall of his chest and the soft exhales as he breathes. "Something really sexy," Blaine says. "I want something that makes you go _wow_ when you see it."

Kurt _tsks_ and takes Blaine's face in his hands, shifting so that they're facing each other. "Honey," he says, raising his brows for emphasis, "you're sexy so matter _what_ you wear. I've told you that before and I'll keep telling you until I draw my last breath. Every day that I see _you_ I say wow. Okay? You're my gorgeous, sexy, _sweet_ boyfriend Blaine, and I'm so in love with you that it hurts."

He presses their lips together before Blaine can open his mouth, letting his hands linger on the smooth skin of Blaine's cheeks, the tips of his fingers scratching through dark hair stiff with gel. He loses himself in the familiarity: Blaine's soft-yet-harsh breathing, the slick slide of his full lips, the way their noses brush together as they change angles and Kurt's tongue slides into Blaine's mouth.

They break away panting and even more flushed than before, Blaine's lips stretching into a wide smile as he leans forward, nuzzles their noses together. "You're perfect," he says.

"_You_ are," Kurt replies, smiling, "and let's stop before we turn into one of _those_ couples. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"Hmm." Blaine pretends to think, tapping his chin with his finger. "I can think of a number of things we can do to prevent us from talking in complete sentences, but I don't know if you—"

Blaine's on his back in a flash, Kurt's legs bracketing his hips as they giggle and kiss until the world falls away, leaving only them and Blaine's bed behind.

****xxxxXxxxx****

"Is this…," Blaine begins, shifting nervously where he stands. They're two hours away from where anyone could possibly know them, standing in front of what looks to be a rather sketchy lingerie shop. No one is giving them a passing glance as they stand just outside the store, looking into the cleaner-streaked window at the impossibly-figured mannequins wearing various styles of lingerie.

"It's the right place," Kurt clarifies, checking his phone just to make sure. "It's the only shop I could find within a reasonable distance that caters to both men and women because the last thing you need is a sweetheart neckline corset to enhance the bust you don't have." He critically eyes Blaine's v-necked sweater and lavender lion-print bowtie.

Blaine pretends to swoon, swaying on the spot and dramatically bringing his hand up to his forehead. "You know how my knees buckle when you get all fashion industry on me."

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine's fluttering eyelashes and lightly shoves his shoulder, pushing him toward the door. "Just wait until we're trying on corsets," he says, grabbing the handle and pulling, the little bell above the door tinkling as they step inside. A rush of cool air tainted with the scent of too-fruity air freshener greets them, along with an overly-peppy salesgirl whose tag reads "Marin."

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" she chirps, flouncing up to them. "How may I help you?"

Blaine hangs back slightly, eyes wide and unsure, but Kurt's all business, squaring his shoulders and smiling as politely as he can. This may seem like the best place to go for their needs, but it's still Ohio, after all, and they can never be too careful. "My friend wants a corset, but he's not sure if he wants broche or brocade or ruffles and he'd like to try some on." He leaves no room for questioning in his voice despite the slight waver he can feel as he finishes his sentence. This is the moment of truth, of possible judgment.

The girl looks from him to Blaine, Blaine to him, repeats once more and finally smiles brightly, bobbing her head in affirmation as she sweepingly gestures with her hand. "Right this way, boys. I think we might have the perfect selection for you."

She leads them towards the back of the store, past the racks and displays of skimpy chemises and camisoles, brightly-colored barely-there thongs and beautifully-cut lace-trim panties and boy shorts. Kurt's eyes linger on a mannequin's thin, white legs wrapped in an intricate pair of lace stockings attached to a simple black garter belt and remembers back to Blaine's trim waist wrapped in a garter belt, his legs swathed in tempting black fishnets.

He looks over and finds Blaine looking around the store in awe, his mouth slightly parted as he takes everything in. Kurt wants to talk, to ask Blaine what he's thinking, if he's getting ideas, too, but he stays silent for now, brushing his hand down Blaine's arm instead. When Marin isn't bouncing ahead of him they'll talk, they'll look at the other selections and discuss the merits of see-through mesh versus another thong, maybe in a different style this time.

Marin stops at a back wall, her grin still wide and unfaltering as her long brown hair bounces around her shoulders. If Kurt wasn't so inwardly nervous he'd actually think about her lack of outward—and hopefully inward—judgment and her readiness to help them, though Kurt's almost positive it's just because of the commission she'll get for them possibly purchasing one of the store's expensive corsets. "Here we are, gentlemen. All the styles the boutique offers are here on the wall, and you're welcome to try any of them on." She clasps her hands together and looks at them both in turn again. "I'll just leave you two be and if you have any problems you know where to find me."

"Thank you," Kurt replies immediately, tugging on Blaine's arm as he steps closer to the wall. Before them is a selection of corsets, all ranging in style from simple to ornate and fringed with multicolored ruffles and bows. Nearly all come with detachable garters.

"See anything you like?" The question is irrelevant—Kurt knows Blaine sees a whole _lot_ of things that he likes. They both do, and that's why Kurt loves it so much.

"Um. Yeah." Blaine's voice is a huff of shaking laughter, his words holding a breathless, awed quality to them that Kurt doesn't hear very often but loves all the same. "But I don't—how do I pick just _one_? They're all so gorgeous."

Kurt steps forward, runs his fingers along a simple black corset with ruffled detailing along the edges. It has no pizzazz, no eye-catching cut or detail, but it's still pretty, still becoming, in its own way. But not for Blaine—no, Blaine's needs the best, the one that will make _both_ of them go "wow."

Right on cue Blaine shakes his head, stepping up beside Kurt to gaze at the wall. "Too plain," he says, looking at the corset to his left. It's red and black, with a lace bodice and a deeper sweetheart neckline than the one Kurt's still touching. "This one is nice."

Kurt reaches up, snagging it off the wall, then goes for the black and a purple and black one next to it. "Dressing room," he says, thrusting the items into Blaine's arms and steering them towards the sectioned-off back room where a few slightly-dingy rooms sit empty. The lighting is horrendous and the smell is stronger back here, but beggars can't be choosers, Kurt supposes as he looks around with a critical eye.

While Blaine ducks into one of the stalls Kurt sinks into a worn red-upholstered armchair, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling. His stomach flips, knots tying and untying themselves periodically. He can hear the slight whisper of clothing through the door and wonders what Blaine's doing, how he's looking at the corsets and wondering which one of them is going to be the one.

He plays with a loose thread with on his jeans as he waits, exhaling through his nose. He's aware of how big a step they're taking with this, both with going out in public to buy a corset and actually _using_ one. Blaine's comfortable with stockings and panties and garters and Kurt's comfortable with corsets even if his had been more of a decorative fashion statement than an actual bit of sexy lingerie. It's new for Blaine, though, and Kurt is maybe being a little selfish when he hopes that it wll work out for Blaine as well.

Blaine's voice breaks Kurt with a jolt out of his thoughts. "What about…this one?" It's muffled by the changing room door; Kurt waits with bated breath until he hears the lock click and the knob begin to turn. Kurt sits up a little straighter in the chair, heart pounding wildly as the door swings open and Blaine steps out, a hand behind his back to hold the loose corset against his frame. He's still in jeans, which Kurt had expected, but seeing Blaine like this, looking somehow so casual, is a surprise.

Blaine's standing just outside the changing room door, shifting on his feet. His eyes dart around the small room nervously, giving him the scared-animal look Kurt hasn't seen since that early-spring day. Wrapped around his torso is a black-and-purple corset, the one that had been next to the other corset that Blaine had commented on. The bodice is a simple deep purple and the top has two rows of black ruffles with a small bow in the center. The bottom follows the same pattern, this time with a bow on either side of his waist. It's…it's perfect.

"Fuck." Kurt's eyes widen and he's up in a flash, directing Blaine to the doorframe and instructing him to hold as Kurt goes to stand behind him and grab the ribbons in the back, pulling them tight enough to allow the corset to stay on, but not tight enough to completely hinder Blaine's breathing. With each strong pull Blaine gasps, his voice pitching slightly higher each time, and soon Kurt's uncomfortably hard in his jeans, cock pushing painfully against his zipper as he continues to lace Blaine up. Once the knot is tied with a flourish Kurt backs them into the cubicle Blaine was just in, throwing a furtive glance over his shoulder before kicking the door shut.

The lone mirror against the back wall reflects the scene back to them: Kurt's hand on Blaine's bare shoulders, Blaine's already-tiny waist cinched in a corset that will only look better once it's tied tightly enough and it's the only thing Blaine's wearing. Kurt lets his right hand trailer lower, stopping to play with the bow in the middle of Blaine's chest and brushing his fingers across the satin polyester/cotton blend of the bodice. "God, you look so _hot_, baby," Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear. He can't help but press his hips forward, rubbing his already-leaking cock against the curve of Blaine's ass with a small, breathed-out groan.

Kurt watches Blaine swallows hard, watches his cheeks slowly turn redder and redder. He's already tenting the front of his jeans and he moans as Kurt ruts against him. His head falls back slightly, eyes sliding closed, and Kurt trails his hand lower, lower until he reaches the hot, heavy bulge of Blaine's cock through his jeans. Pleasure sparks like fire low in his stomach as he presses his lips to the shell of Blaine's ear and murmurs, "You're so hot just from trying these on. Christ, _look at you_."

"Ah!" Blaine can't hold back his exclamation or his whimper as he thrusts up into Kurt's touch, but Kurt's quick to pull away, shaking his head even though he itches and yearns to take Blaine apart right now, use all the tricks and knowledge he's gained to make Blaine fray at the seams, to make him writhe and moan and come quicker than he has in months. He wants to make Blaine beg for _everything_.

"Gotta be quiet," he murmurs instead, spinning Blaine around and crushing their mouths together before he places his hands on Blaine's shoulders once more, pushing lightly but insistently. Without hesitating Blaine sinks to his knees, landing with twin _thunks_ on the hardwood floor, and _god_, just seeing Blaine eager, seeing him obey without hesitating, makes Kurt so hard he can't breathe, can't focus on anything but the hazy, overwhelming pleasure sucking him in.

It feels filthy, doing this here, but Kurt's so far gone that he doesn't even _care_. His vision narrows down, focuses solely on the sight on Blaine on his knees in nothing but a pair of jeans and a (gorgeous, so gorgeous) corset. Every other inhibition flies away as Blaine leans forward, gripping onto Kurt's thighs as he mouths against the denim stretched tight across the hard, hot bulge of Kurt's cock. Kurt bites on the side of his hand to stifle his moan and leans back against the door as Blaine lets his jaw fall slack, mouth plush and open as he slides back-forth over the line of Kurt's cock, tongue occasionally flicking out to press against the dampening denim. His breathing is gradually growing from carefully measured to harsh and fast; through slitted eyes Kurt watches Blaine move a hand from his thigh down to his own lap, squeezing his own cock with a muffled, breathy groan.

When Blaine finally gets Kurt's jeans and boxer-briefs down Kurt feels like he's going to come any second. He itches to tangle his hand in Blaine's hair but knows that that will only make it more obvious when they actually do buy the corset and leave; he settles for gripping onto Blaine's shoulder instead, digging in as Blaine takes his cock in hand, breathing harshly as he looks from the swollen tip to Kurt's unfocused eyes, and steadies it before sinking down.

"Oh god, oh god," Kurt chants on a stage whisper, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. He immediately wants to snap his hips forward, bury his cock deep into Blaine's throat to hear him gag slightly before regaining his composure, but he holds back with a whimper, tilting his head back and exhaling harshly through his nose. Blaine bobs his head, sliding until he meets the circle of his fingers before pulling back up with a suction that makes Kurt's toes curl, his breath catching somewhere deep in his throat as he feels the velvet-smooth press of Blaine's tongue along the underside and the veins snaking around his cock. Blaine pulls off with a slick sound to flick the tip of his tongue across the slit, swirling around the smooth head as he looks up, holds Kurt's gaze and flattens his tongue to lave across the head. He closes his mouth around just the tip, flicking his tongue out again to press against the bundle of nerves under the ridge.

Kurt's hips jolt as his voice goes high on a whine and a groaned "fuck," pushing his cock back into Blaine's mouth, and Blaine takes it eagerly, trapping it between his cheek and his tongue as he lets go of the base, cupping Kurt's balls gently instead, his fingers inching back to rub along Kurt's perineum. Kurt's almost too fixated on the outline of the shape of his cock against Blaine's cheek to realize what Blaine's doing, but he does have the presence of mine to choke out a warning before he's closing his eyes and coming in pulses into Blaine's mouth and Blaine's swallowing thickly, the sound echoing in the enclosed space as his eyes flutter shut and he continues to rub himself through his jeans.

Blaine stands up, swaying a little on his feet, and Kurt hurriedly unbuckles Blaine's belt, making quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans as well before pushing Blaine up against the wall. He slides immediately to his knees, pushing jeans and boxer-briefs down to wrap his lips around Blaine's hot, slick cock. Blaine cries out above him, sharp and cut-off, and his hand clenches hard in Kurt's hair for a moment before he's coming, his thighs and hips quaking under Kurt's careful touch. Kurt does his best to swallow, training his eyes up on Blaine's slack face to see mouth fallen open as his hips twitch and his cock pulses.

When Kurt straightens up Blaine's pulling him close with a desperately furrowed brow, hand insistent on the back of Kurt's head as he presses their lips together and licks into Kurt's mouth with a little whine. Kurt brushes his tongue along Blaine's, runs it along teeth and gums and tastes his own come as he presses tight to Blaine, crowding and doing his best to soak up everything.

"God," Blaine gasps when they part, his lips swollen and red, and he looks sinful, _fucked_ without having been fucked, and Kurt absolutely can't wait until they can do this properly, draw it out and make it phenomenal. "Kurt, oh my _god_." Kurt tries to focus on Blaine's eyes, the retracting pupils in darkened honey-gold, his fluttering eyelashes, but ends up failing as his own eyes continuously dart down the line of Blaine's neck, the dark shadow of his bare collarbone and the dip of the corset.

Kurt can see Blaine's small smile out of the corner of his eye. "Well, now I can cross 'get a blowjob in a public place' off my bucket list," Kurt replies with a shaky laugh, finally snapping his gaze back up. He places his hands on Blaine's shoulders, guiding until Blaine turns around and he can loosen the ribbon on the corset enough for Blaine to be able to slide it off.

He holds it in his hands, tries not to shiver at the warmth it still holds from Blaine's body. Blaine turns and stoops to pick up his discarded shirt from the bench in the corner. "So we're getting this, right?"

Blaine laughs and nods, ducking his head shyly and Kurt _still_ reels at the juxtaposition of Blaine's behavior. He takes the corset from Kurt and turns the handle of the door, peeking out enough to see if anyone's lingering outside their stall. No one is, so he opens the door wider and they step out. Kurt can't resist taking Blaine's hand in his, relishing in the warmth and firm familiar pressure, and when Blaine turns and smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, Kurt suddenly doesn't care what anyone else will think when they see them.

****xxxxXxxxx****

Opening a door, Kurt has come to realize, is becoming synonymous with manic desperation.

The second Blaine's door is opened Kurt's hands are sliding over the firm swell of Blaine's ass, pulling him close and squeezing as he presses a kiss to the underside of Blaine's jaw. It's Blaine's house this time because his parents have a family function that Blaine's been excused from (it's the side of the family that detests the idea of him being gay, Blaine had said, and his parents, sympathetic for once, had excused him from any avoidable interaction) and he'll have the house all to himself until the evening.

At one in the afternoon the light streams through the window in Blaine's room, highlighting the gold and green in Blaine's darkening eyes and making his reddening, saliva-slick lips that much more sinful which in turn makes Kurt _that much_ harder in record time.

"Gorgeous," Kurt can't help but breathe, framing Blaine's face in his hands. Blaine blinks, those long, dark lashes sweeping and fanning, and Kurt lets out a groan before surging forward again, sealing their lips together with a hungry sound. He licks along Blaine's lower lip, sucks it into his mouth and bites down gently to feel Blaine shudder, to hear and swallow his wanton moan.

Kurt tangles his fingers in Blaine's hair as Blaine backs them against the wall, pressing tightly to Kurt as he tilts his head, changes the angle and slides his hand between them. The broad, warm weight of his palm presses against Kurt through his jeans and he keens, breaking their kiss wetly as he lets his head thunk hard against the wall, hips stuttering up into Blaine's slow, rough movements.

"If you want to—oh _god_—wear your corset, we should probably stop." Kurt has to bite each word out as Blaine continues to rub, his mouth now relocated to Kurt's neck. Kurt should be worried about marks as he feels the dull pressure of Blaine's teeth since Blaine likes to do it even when Kurt says no, but he can't bring himself to stop him.

"Mm, but you taste so good," Blaine murmurs, his tongue flicking across the sensitive patch of skin he's been marking; Kurt shudders and grinds against Blaine's hand with a whine. "Wanna make you come."

The words make Kurt squeeze his eyes shut with a loud moan, already feeling the hot-tight pressure around his cock as he sinks deep into Blaine's ass. "You will. I promise," Kurt groans, imagining Blaine on his hands and knees, cinched in purple and black, as he pushes weakly at Blaine's shoulders. "C'mon. Take your shirt off so I can lace you up."

****xxxxXxxxx****

Blaine is laced up completely this time, his back straight and shoulders pushed forward as he breathes unevenly, his eyes so impossibly wide as he looks from his reflection to Kurt's in his vanity mirror like he's waiting for a reaction, approval, anything. Kurt's already throbbing in his jeans from their frantic session just minutes ago and from the memory of Blaine gripping tight to the doorframe, bracing himself as Kurt had gripped the black laces in his hands and tugged hard, making sure each line of ribbon was perfectly tight. Each sharp inhale plays on loop in Kurt's ears.

"It's perfect," Blaine finally murmurs, transfixed on his own reflection. He touches the bow in the middle of his chest and traces his fingers along the ruffles.

"What kind of panties are you wearing for me today, honey?" Kurt whispers in Blaine's ear, rubbing his hands slowly up and down Blaine's bare arms and feeling him shiver as gooseflesh arises, muscles flexing under his touch as Blaine clenches his fists. "Something to highlight that gorgeous ass of yours, I'd hope."

Blaine swallows hard, nodding mutely, and his hands are immediately on his button and zipper, clumsily undoing them and shoving them down. Once they're pooled at his feet Kurt lets himself look, forcing his gaze away from the corset.

This time Blaine has on just a simple pair of black ruffled panties that stretch tight across jutting hipbones and curve perfectly around the shape of his ass. When Kurt cups Blaine through the fabric (with a gasp and a desperate whine as Blaine's eyes clench shut and he sags backwards against Kurt's chest) he finds out that they're thin cotton. Later he'll have to praise Blaine on finding a perfect complement to the corset.

"Good. Bed," Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear, trying not to shiver as he runs his hands along Blaine's sides, feels the lace ruffles and the boning of the corset. He does his best to keep his voice steady and slightly hard as he stares at the reflected image of Blaine flushed red, his mouth unconsciously parted slightly and the thin fabric of his panties doing nothing to minimize the obscene bulge of his cock. "Hands and knees, baby."

Blaine's quick to obey, kicking his jeans fully off before climbing up onto his bed and immediately falling into position, head hung low between his shoulders as he spaces his legs a little wider and tilts his ass up just a little further. Kurt wets his lips and squeezes his cock briefly, sighing. "Good boy, Blaine."

Blaine lets out another whine in response and a quick jolt of arousal shoots through Kurt at the lilting, needy noise as Blaine's shoulders quiver, his hips jerking downward. "God, you just love hearing that, don't you?" Kurt says as he tugs his shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor as he begins to work on his belt, letting it hang from the loops on his jeans before quickly undoing the button and zipper. "Knowing that you're my good, obedient boy." He wriggles out of his jeans and lets them fall to the floor with a thump.

"Yes," Blaine gasps, lifting his head up to stare at Kurt. He looks so wrecked already. "Oh, god, _yes_, Kurt."

Kurt thumbs the waistband of his underwear before deciding against it, keeping them on for now as he crawls onto the bed behind Blaine. When he touches his hands to Blaine's hips he can feel him trembling, the slight buzzing and vibrating one might associate with an idling car. "Such a sweet boy," Kurt murmurs, pulling the waistband of Blaine's panties down enough to expose the divide of his ass. He places a kiss to the strip of skin made visible between his corset and panties, darting his tongue out to wet the skin; Blaine pushes his ass back and groans lowly as Kurt dips slightly between his cheeks.

He runs his hands down Blaine's thighs as he continues to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to his skin, scratching his nails lightly down the sensitive insides. He takes the waistband of the panties between his teeth and tugs, using his hand to help with the other side until they're stretched tight across Blaine's thighs—like the photo he'd sent, that _beautiful_ photo of him covered in his own come—and he's rewarded with the sight of Blaine finally completely bare, the spread of his legs and ass coupled with the heavy hang of his cock and balls so, so tempting.

"Fuck, how are you so hot?" Kurt breathes, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Blaine's tight, dry hole, then trails it down to trace lightly over his balls. Blaine moans and Kurt can feel the comforter shift as Blaine bunches it up in his fingers.

"Kurt." His voice catches, squeaking slightly higher. "Kurt, _please_," Blaine groans, and this time it cracks. "Fuck me. Or—or _touch me_, at least."

"Desperate, are we?" Kurt asks with a smirk, squeezing Blaine's cheek. He straightens up and slides his own underwear down and off, tossing it to the floor as his cock finally bobs free. He won't let on, but he's just as desperate as Blaine, every inch of his skin itching and crawling already.

"You've been teasing me for too long," Blaine whines, looking over his shoulder. Kurt sees that some of his gel is just beginning to come loose. "I kind of just want you in me at this point."

"In time," Kurt replies, scooting closer and reaching under Blaine to wrap his hand around Blaine's cock. Blaine's back bows and he moans, the sound abrupt and loud, and his hips snap forward. Kurt pushes closer, his cock dragging along Blaine's thigh, and drapes himself over Blaine's back as he works his fist slowly up-down, smoothing his thumb over the swollen head. Blaine turns his head, closing his eyes as their lips meet and they kiss messily, uncoordinated and overwhelmed, tongues licking along lips and too much saliva being traded as Kurt works his fist over Blaine's cock, letting the pulse and throb guide him.

"I had all these—all these _plans_," Kurt gasps out when they part with the wet smacking of lips, pressing his forehead to Blaine's shoulders. Blaine draws in shaky half-breaths, the rise and fall of his chest labored as Kurt continues to jerk him at a steady pace. "I wanted to draw everything out, make you so hard you couldn't think straight and then fuck you until you couldn't walk. I wanted you to be sore for _days_. But seeing you like this is just—_fuck_, I'm going to make you so incoherent, baby."

"So most of that plan is still intact, then?" Blaine asks, dropping his head and thrusting into the circle of Kurt's fist.

Kurt lets out a breathless bark of a laugh, pressing kisses to Blaine's back, the tiny little birthmark high on his shoulder. As much as he'd wanted to suck Blaine off, that can wait. "It seems so. Hold on just a moment."

He reluctantly untangles himself, reaching over the side of the bed for the nightstand drawer, pulling it open and fishing the bottle of lube out. He pauses for a second, contemplating, and gets off the bed completely, standing on legs already shaky from arousal. Blaine looks quizzically over at him but Kurt says nothing, doesn't even acknowledge the glance.

Instead, he takes in the sight of Blaine on all fours, legs spread and arms slightly bent. He swallows thickly at the tight cinching of the corset, the way it makes Blaine thin and lithe, and at the stretch of his panties still tight across his thighs. Blaine's cock is hard and red, curving up slightly as it hangs heavy and full between his legs.

"Enjoying the view?" Blaine finally says drily, though his pupils are still blown wide and a bead of pre-come builds and drips from his cock. Kurt has to swallow quickly to keep the saliva from building up, a phantom ache twanging in his jaw as he imagines pushing Blaine onto his back and swallowing him down.

Instead, Kurt half-smiles at him, uncapping the lube and sauntering back over to the bed. Blaine's eyes are glued on him, mouth parted, until Kurt walks out of view and climbs back onto the bed behind him. At the gentle urging of his hands on the backs of his thighs Kurt gets Blaine's panties off and Blaine immediately spreads his legs as wide as he can in this position.

He coats his first two fingers, rubbing them along Blaine's perineum for a moment to circle his hole, feeling the slight twitching of muscle before he pushes in. Blaine gasps and draws up tight beneath him, clenching around Kurt's finger.

"Relax," Kurt murmurs, petting Blaine's hip with his free hand. He lets Blaine adjust for only a minute or two before adding his middle finger. He knows Blaine can take it, that it won't hurt him, and right on cue Blaine moans, pushing back onto Kurt's fingers as they slid in to the last knuckle. Kurt wishes he could see Blaine's face, see the scrunched brow and plush-parted lips.

"So good," Kurt whispers, watching his fingers disappear into Blaine's body as he spreads and crooks, hearing Blaine's hitching noises and cut-off moans as he begins to slowly loosen. "You're so good for me, Blaine." His wrist begins to burn, just a dull ache. "Can't wait until I'm fucking you. Can't wait until I feel this tight hole open around me. You're so desperate already, such a perfect little slut, baby, yes you are." He changes his tone from filthy and deep to sweet and cooing toward the end, the switch nearly unintentional, but it has its intended effect as Blaine lets out a moan that tapers off to a whine, breathing out _yes, yes_ with every thrust of Kurt's fingers. Kurt knows without having to see that Blaine's face is bright red, the flush creeping down his neck to disappear into the neckline of the corset.

He increases the speed and intensity of his fingers, re-lubing and adding a third when Blaine's broken, breathy voice begs for more, his hips working in circles onto the two fingers Kurt has buried in him now. The bed creaks lightly as Kurt works in his third finger, crooking and searching until he finds Blaine's prostate and Blaine jolts with a yelp, pressing his face to the bed as he moans helplessly and fucks back onto Kurt's temporarily stilled hand, bringing one of his own hands back to his ass to spread himself wider. "God, _fuck yes_, Kurt." Blaine's voice is muffled, nearly inaudible, but Kurt knows. "I need your cock, please. Need you in me, need to feel you stretching me open."

Kurt swallows thickly and slides his fingers out, reaching for the lube and pouring some into his palm, slicking up his cock with tight strokes. He places his clean hand on Blaine's hip, squeezing lightly, and wipes the extra lube off on the comforter. He circles the head of his dick around Blaine's stretched hole, dipping in slightly before pulling back out, admiring the stark redness of his cock against the dark, glistening skin of Blaine's ass. When he slides it it's with a kiss pressed to the sweaty top of Blaine's shoulder, lips parting in a sucked-in gasp as his cock is enveloped in familiar tight heat.

"Oh god," Blaine moans, his shoulders tense-yet-relaxed as Kurt bottoms out. Though the feeling is far from new Kurt always can't help but be amazed, speechless, when he's flush to Blaine's ass. He gets to _do this_. He gets to be the one to make Blaine fall apart, gets to be the name on Blaine's lips as he comes. He gets all of this and he loves it.

Slowly Kurt moves, pulling out halfway and pushing back in. He feels Blaine draw a breath under him that never quite fully makes it, instead getting cut off with an audible gasp as the corset restricts Blaine's movements. Something surges inside Kurt at that, a spark of need and want at just the mere thought that the corset is doing its job.

He pulls out to the tip of his cock, holding for a second before slamming back in, wrapping the loops of the ribbon's bow around the fingers of both hands and tugging. Blaine's head snaps up, his back arching as a moan that would normally be low and rich turns out cut-off and breathy.

Blaine begins moving with him, keeping his breathing as staccato as possible as the slap of their skin together becomes slicker and slicker with sweat. "So hot," Kurt grunts, tightening his grip on the ribbon as he pulls a little harder. "So perfect for me, baby. Touch yourself, c'mon." He'll never get tired of seeing Blaine like this, so vulnerable and open and pliant, his ass pushed up and cheeks spread wide to allow nothing to hinder the sight of Kurt's cock sliding in and out of his reddened asshole.

"Gonna come," Blaine gasps, his voice strained and fading. Kurt watches his shoulder move and flex as he reaches down to fist himself, working over his cock in hard, tight strokes that shake his body. "So close, baby, right there, _yes_. You feel so good, I—ah!"

Kurt wants it to last longer, wants to see how long he can drag this out and how strung-out he can make Blaine, but with each slap of his balls to Blaine's ass he feels himself shoved closer, his own desperation edging into his mind, and he changes angles, letting go of the ribbon to grip Blaine's hips, hoisting him up and backward and still.

"Fuck." Blaine squirms, undulating in Kurt's grasp. He can feel every muscle flex and jump as Blaine moves, and _oh_, that's a lot hotter than Kurt thought it'd be. "Oh god, oh fuck, Kurt, gonna—oh _fuck_…"

Blaine's back arches once more and Kurt slides his arm up to Blaine's torso, bracing it against the boning as Blaine comes with a long, low moan, clenching around Kurt's cock sporadically. It only takes Kurt a few more thrusts before he's coming, biting down gently on Blaine's shoulder as his hips thrust weakly forward.

After he slides slowly out of Blaine he does his best to quickly undo the ties in the corset, loosening enough to allow Blaine room to take a deep breath. They both flop onto their backs, too lazy to do anything else.

"I think it's a good thing we're being adventurous while we're young," Kurt says to the ceiling, hand on his abdomen as he catches his breath. He remembers a time when he'd be abhorred that he'd be so comfortable lying naked above the covers with the lights on and almost laughs.

Blaine turns to look at him, eyebrows raised and a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I think that was my line."

Kurt shakes his head the best he can while laying down. "Nope. Not anymore. It's a shared line as long as we're together."

Blaine's fingers brush his and Kurt immediately tangles them together, smiling contentedly. They don't need to say any more; the weight of Kurt's sentence sits heavy in the air, its meaning and promise heady and true. For them, there will always be a "we," a "together." Never an "alone" or "forgotten." Those words don't exist in their world.

Kurt rolls over, places his hand on Blaine's chest and the corset covering it. He plays with the bow before leaning up to press his lips to Blaine's. "Thank you," he whispers, the words slipping out before he can process them.

"What for?" The look Blaine gives him is quizzical but not unhappy.

Kurt flushes and shrugs, ducking his head and smiling. "I dunno. For being you. Perfect."

He looks up just in time to see Blaine rolls his eyes but smile, reaching out to card his fingers through Kurt's sweaty hair. "You're welcome? I guess. But I think it's me who should be saying that, not you."

"Mm, no serious discussions," Kurt says, feeling tiredness seep into his bones. "We have a few more hours together before your parents come home. Let's cuddle and make the best of it."

Blaine laughs and pulls Kurt closer, leaving the loosened corset on as the tangle their legs together. He'll get around to it.


	7. Yours Truly

Title is from the insert of Panic! At The Disco's _A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_.  
>Warnings are: bit of comeplay, the usual warnings that come with this 'verse.<p>

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong> endofadream-tumblr-com<strong>

****xxxxXxxxx****

"Are you sure you're okay with ruining these—"

"Kurt, they're nylon and spandex, I can just wash them later—"

"They could stain and I really, really like this pair—"

"Kurt!" Blaine raises his voice and Kurt stops mid-sentence, embarrassed. He's kneeling over Blaine on Blaine's bed, running his thumb along the elastic of the dark gray panties Blaine's wearing. Blaine's skin is visible through the filigree and floral lace print, along with the shape of his balls and hardening cock. "Seriously, they'll be fine." He smiles and traces his fingers along the bump of Kurt's wrist. "And even if they aren't, well, it was for a good cause, right?"

Kurt's cheeks heat up and he laughs, nods. He honestly can't think of a better reason to ruin a pair of underwear, and so far their track record has been good: There's only been one intentional casualty and that was a pair of black panties with white lace trim that Kurt had ripped almost in half one day.

(—And _god_, what a good day that had been, Blaine bent over the couch in Kurt's living room because he'd been _wearing the damn panties all day_ and he hadn't said anything, just unbuttoned his jeans and took Kurt's hand and let him feel the smooth silk-polyester blend, warm from Blaine's skin and arousal, and Kurt still isn't sure how they got lube or a condom, just remembers shoving Blaine's jeans down, pushing him against the couch until his ass was thrust out and somehow the panties had gotten ripped, the fabric in Kurt's hands and hanging limply off the rounded curve of Blaine's ass—)

"Besides," Blaine says offhandedly, bringing Kurt out of his thoughts, "I got these from Forever 21."

Kurt snorts. "They're most definitely ruined, then."

Blaine swats at Kurt's arm but doesn't bother to hide his grin. "Shut up," he says. "You'll miss them when they're gone."

"Only because of the wonderful things they do for your dick. And your ass." Kurt strokes pointedly over the hard, hot flesh of Blaine's cock, Blaine's body trembling underneath his thighs. He watches Blaine tip his head back and let out a sigh, watches the fluid movements of his torso as he responds to Kurt's touch, and it never ceases to be breathtaking, amazing the way Blaine's body arches and stretches, the skin flushing and prickling as Kurt trails his fingertips, his tongue, and maps out roads and canyons only they will ever know about.

This thing they have together, this trust and sense of ease, is something that Kurt treasures. He's the only one who will ever know the exact way Blaine's pupils dilate and his eyes darken, the way he looks when he's about to come and after he does, limp and sated and breathing as hard as a racehorse. He's the only one who will ever know about Blaine's collection, the only one who will ever be the recipient of impromptu modeling and lap dances after Blaine's tried on panty after garter after stocking, looking more and more _unreal_ after each one.

Kurt leans down, rubs the fabric of his boxer-briefs over the fabric of Blaine's panties, presses dry lips to Blaine's cheek and then to his ear. He breathes out, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to come on your pretty little panties," and feels something twist up hot and dark and wanting inside him at the words finally spoken aloud.

Blaine lets out a broken sound that could be a moan or a whimper or just noise wrought out of him at the words, the hot breath fanning over his ear and the proximity of the body hovering over him, pressed down at just the right places. He jerks his hips up, rubs against Kurt's until they're both breathing a little heavier and his hands are pressed tight to the bare, warm skin of Kurt's shoulders.

"Fuck, Kurt," he says, and his words are tight, slightly strangled; he kisses Kurt hard and wet before pulling back again, running a hand through Kurt's hair like he can't help it, like it's grounding him and keeping him from floating away like out-of-control molecules.

He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. Kurt knows what he means, knows that the short sentence is an invitation, an opening, for Kurt to say whatever he sees fit. Kurt sits back on his heels, ignores the rub of cotton over the head of his aching dick, and surveys Blaine's prone form: the flush spread over his chest, nipples pebbled dark and small against his tan, olive skin and slightly defined muscles; the sparse dark hair over his chest, down the concave of his torso and abs to the waistband of the panties. The gray nylon and spandex blend is darker where the head strains, sticky with pre-come, and Kurt thinks about how easy it would be to push down the waistband and jerk Blaine off until he's coming with a cry and writhing in familiar pleasure.

"Someday I think I'll get used to how gorgeous you look like this," Kurt finds himself saying. Above them the ceiling fan circles lazily with a constant _whoosh_ of air and rotating fan blades.

Blaine grins easily up at him, settling his hands low on Kurt's waist. His thumbs rub small circles and Kurt delights in the shiver the movements elicit. "What would be the fun in that, then? I like to constantly amaze you."

"Mm, you already do."

Blaine's hands slide forward, twin hot pressures until he's curving the fingers of his right around the shape of Kurt's cock, working slowly back and forth as he drags the cotton tortuously slow. Kurt feels his eyes flutter shut, feels his jaw slacken as he pushes into Blaine's hand with a tiny, breathed-out moan. "Oh, _god_."

He doesn't protest when Blaine begins to inch down the waistband of his underwear, doesn't say anything when he braces his hands on the headboard and lets Blaine slide them off a leg at a time.

"So hard for me, baby." Blaine wets his lips, looking down then up, fixated on the slight bob of Kurt's flushed cock when he shifts on his knees to catch his balance. "Beautiful."

The words fall on Kurt's skin like warm spring rain, rejuvenating and with just the right amount of heat to make him shiver. Blaine is beautiful to him and he is beautiful to Blaine and everything fits so nicely, feels so right and _perfect_ no matter what they're doing, and sometimes Kurt wants to bottle up this feeling, store it away for later when he needs it most.

"Such a good boy," Kurt says, the precursor to everything. He watches Blaine relax, his limbs tension-free against the bed, lines vanished from his forehead and the corners of his mouth. He sees the twitch of Blaine's cock strain against his panties, hears the happy sigh leave his lips. "Always so good for me, Blaine. Aren't you?"

"Yes," Blaine murmurs, lashes fluttering.

Kurt scoots down a little further until he's straddling Blaine's thighs. He can feel the strong muscle flex when Blaine moves. "That's my boy," he says softly. He raises his palm to his face, lips parting to allow his tongue to wet it before he thinks differently.

Blaine catches on, grabbing Kurt's hand and raising up on his elbows to lave his tongue hot and velvet-soft and damp along the smooth skin, taking care to trace the heart lines and the curve of each finger. He sucks Kurt's index and middle fingers into his mouth and Kurt's breath hitches, eyes fixated on the sight of Blaine looking up at him, of his tongue rolling over the knuckles until Blaine lets go with a soft _pop_.

Kurt's flushed and sweating and near panting by the time he gets his hand wrapped around his cock. His hips jerk forward immediately, the pleasure twining insistently at the pit of his stomach rearing up and flaring out. The twists of his fist make his toes curl and he can't help but grunt softly when he slides just right over the head of his cock.

The bed dips and creaks when Kurt moves, the frame shaking slightly with the increasing pace of his arm. His mouth drops open again and he lets it stay, lets his mouth and tongue cotton as he pants and succumbs to the tendrils of pleasure, the white-hot heat building and building with each swipe of his thumb over the head, each squeeze at the top and back down at the base.

"Yes, yes," Blaine murmurs, and Kurt's vaguely aware that he should be officiating it—it's how it usually goes—but this time he can't find the right words, can't form a coherent thought or sentence with the way Blaine is looking stretched under him, hooded-eyed and swollen-lipped and the epitome of sex. "God, Kurt, c'mon, come all over me, _fuck_, ruin these panties and make me yours."

Kurt hears a whine and recognizes it as his own after a few dazed seconds. His muscles burn their protest as his hand speeds up and he can feel Blaine's eyes on him, wide and unblinking and unguarded as he watches.

"That's it, _yes_, baby, let go and make me dirty. You're so beautiful, Kurt, so hot like this. I'm yours, Sir. I'm yours I'm yours I'm—"

Kurt's hips stutter forward as everything comes apart and his cock jerks as he begins to come in arcing pulses that drip off his fingertips, splatter over Blaine's sweat-slicked abdomen and collect on the blend of his panties in lines of darker gray highlighted with white. He gasps, unable to catch his breath, and shudders through the aftershocks, sluggishly moving his hand until the last bit drips off his fingers and onto the body below him.

"Oh _fuck_," he says in a voice pitched higher than normal. His eyes are wide when he looks down, meets Blaine's gaze for only a second before trailing his fingertips over Blaine's abdomen where the come has pooled near his navel, rubbing it in with a precise, wondrous touch before moving to brush his thumb over a line of come spread across Blaine's cock. At the slight touch Blaine tenses, tips his head back and moans, pushing his hips up as his cock twitches and he's coming hard, each pulse wringing a weaker-sounding noise out of him until he's spent and collapsing back onto the sheets.

Kurt feels shaky and weak-kneed when he collapses next to Blaine. "Still think you can salvage that pair?"

Blaine laughs and rolls over, eyes crinkled at the corners. He slings an arm across Kurt's chest and Kurt smiles, running the backs of his fingers along Blaine's side. "Not a chance. You've ruined me again, Kurt Hummel."

"I ruined a pair of three-dollar underwear." Kurt rolls his eyes and takes note of the way his heart thumps at the raw sentiment in Blaine's sated voice. "I'm just doing you a favor."

"You wound me."

"You love me."

"I love you."

"I love _you_." Kurt kisses Blaine softly, twisting to tangle his fingers in Blaine's hair. "Love you," he reiterates, like somehow he's forgotten it. He pecks a kiss to the tip of Blaine's nose, slides his hand over the damp fabric of Blaine's panties. His breath hitches when he feels the cooling slickness of his come mixed with Blaine's.

Blaine breathes out a laugh through his nose. "We're disgusting, aren't we?"

"Well, we _are_ covered in come…."

Blaine rolls his eyes and flicks Kurt's shoulder. "Not what I meant, but you do have a point."

Kurt sits up and holds out his hand until Blaine takes it, an eyebrow raised in question. "To answer your question," Kurt says, "yes, we are disgustingly sappy. And yes, we are covered in come and sweat and a shower sounds really, really nice right now. You in or out?"

When Blaine presses Kurt against the slick shower wall ten minutes later, Kurt thinks he could appreciate getting dirty once in awhile if it always ends in this.


End file.
